Harry Potter and the Eclipse of Remembrance
by The Zig
Summary: [5th year, no romance] Dragons, TechnoMagic, conspiracies and escaped daemons mean Harry's in for an eventful year, even if he doesn't manage to survive long enough to kill Voldemort... COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1: Earth

Chapter 1: Earth 

---

"Once upon a time..." - Countless Fairy Tales

---

The Sun beat down on the back of his neck with the force of a hammer. Sweat was running in tiny streams, trickling down his back and following the contours of his spinal cord. This was a day that you expected people to be outside on; rare for England, the temperature was in high twenties, and though this may be nothing to most countries, the English are utterly unused to this heat.

However, this was _not_ a day you expected to be _working_ on - unless, perhaps, you had a drink or fan at hand. Harry Potter had, unfortunately, neither of these.

Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, orphan of 14 years of age, did however have ownership of something that most people did not; magic. At age one, Harry's parents - James and Lily Potter - were murdered by the worst feared Dark Lord in several centuries - Lord Voldemort. However, when he turned his wand on Harry, the Killing Curse backfired, pushing Voldemort out of his own body and leaving Harry alive.

Sent to his magic-hating relatives, Aunt Petunia and her husband Vernon, and their hippopotamus sized son Dudley, Harry grew up unknowing of his magical parents and powers, and it was only on his eleventh birthday that a half-giant named Hagrid introduced him to the hidden world of Wizardry, and the British institution of arcane learning: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

There, Harry was placed into the house Gryffindor and met his two best friends Ron and Hermione; as well as his rival, Draco Malfoy, placed in Slytherin. In Harry's first year, he had prevented Voldemort from regaining his body by retrieving the Philosopher's Stone; in his second, he had destroyed a Basilisk in Slytherin's hidden Chamber of Secrets and rescued Ron's little sister Ginny.

His third year back was no less exciting. The supposed murderer, Sirius Black turned out to be Harry's Godfather, framed by one of Voldemort's followers, the Death Eaters. Harry's fourth year was perhaps the most dangerous; Harry was entered in the Triwizard Tournament, a competition where he had to pass a dragon, dive to the bottom of the Hogwarts lake, and make his way round a maze to the Goblet of Fire, the champion's cup. However, the goblet was turned into a Portkey, an item that took him to Voldemort.

There, Harry's newly made friend, Cedric Diggory, was killed, and Voldemort was reborn using Harry's blood. With the belief that he had helped the Dark Lord regain his strength, Harry returned to his relative's house for the Summer holidays, where he was worked harder than ever; though there were some more advantages to this Summer than the previous years - the Dursleys were so afraid of magic since the Ton-Tongue Toffee, that they allowed Harry to take his school-books out for a few hours a day to do his homework, and his owl, Hedwig, was allowed to have her cage unlocked as long as she kept quiet and behaved.

At the moment, he was planting various vegetables and a small fruit tree at the bottom of the garden. It was one of the Dursley's vain attempts to get their son thin enough to fit into the school uniforms - the school nurse had decided that the huge boy would be more likely to eat healthily if he 'took a pride in the knowledge that he helped grow his food', which meant giving up some of the garden to cultivate what Vernon called 'rabbit food'. Of course, as Harry had oft pointed out and the Dursley's had oft ignored, Dudley wouldn't even help grow the food, instead delegating the job to Harry, so it was quite pointless.

After patting down the earth around the apple tree and sitting back to admire his work, Harry sighed and ran a hand through his messy black hair, grimacing when he remembered the dirt caked on his fingers.

"BOY!" a voice shrieked suddenly. "GET INSIDE, NOW!"

Harry dragged himself to his feet and trudged in exhaustion back to the house. Aunt Petunia glared at him as he entered the kitchen, surveying the dirt trailing from his shoes and soil crumbling from his hair.

"Take yourself upstairs for a shower, and get yourself cleaned up." she snapped at him, turning back to her cooking. "Vernon's bringing one of his friends home today, so I want everything looking respectable - not that it's possible for you." she added as an afterthought.

Harry scowled at her behind his back. Personally, he was amazed that Uncle Vernon even had friends; the man found fault with everyone but himself, his wife and his son, who in his eyes could do no wrong. The boy showered quickly and dressed in his best clothes (owned by Dudley when he was eight, so they fit quite well) and sat in his room. Ten minutes later, there was a screech from his Aunt, demanding to know why he wasn't down. Harry shook his head in surprise. He was wanted downstairs?

"Of course you are." sniffed the woman in disgust after he had made his way to her and voiced his amazement. "Who do you _think _is going to serve the Rowles? Now, comb your hair and bring me the best wine glasses."

And that was the end of it.

---

The visit could have been unimportant. Nothing could have come of it, and the memory would drift away from Harry later that year as a perfectly normal event, not worth lingering on. However, fate has a funny way of making insignificant occurrences turn into coincidences; and coincidences into life-changing events. This, for Harry, was one of those times.

Mr Rowles was a tall, quite slim man, with a ready smile, slightly greying dark hair and chestnut eyes. His wife was slightly shorter, with light green eyes, pale skin and mousy-brown hair tied into a pony-tail. She smiled a little uncertainly, but it appeared to be shyness rather than regret of coming.

Dudley was proudly introduced to the couple, who was met with obviously fake cries of 'Isn't he handsome!' and 'What a gentleman!'. No-one seemed to notice these were lies except for Harry, who grinned back when he was winked at by Mr Rowles while the Dursleys turned to greet his wife. The lunch was excellent, and they were halfway through when the subject of discussion turned to books.

"I tend to like the less-well known literature." Mrs Rowles, who had grown in confidence as the meal progressed, announced. "Some books are so well known and well read that their views have just been accepted as commonplace. I find that some of the best books are those that are hardly heard of, and offer new and more in-depth theories."

Petunia, who didn't understand this, nodded agreeably and offered some more of the pie. Dudley scrunched his face up as he tried to work out the meaning of the word 'literature', and Vernon, the only one besides Harry and Mr Rowles who had understood her, swallowed his mouthful of apple pie and asked; "Is that why you set up your bookshop then? To find as many of these unknown books as you can?"

Dudley gave up on his puzzlement in light of this fact, and stared at Mrs Rowles. "You have a _bookshop_?" he asked, half-interested, half-amazed that anyone in their right minds could like books. Harry had the strangest feeling - just a few hairs standing up on the back of his neck, a shiver up the spine from a tingle of electricity - that something seemingly unimportant, but crucial was about to happen.

"Oh, yes," Mrs Rowles said, smiling. "It's a second-hand book store, and I only take rare or uncommon books; I have some that are over a hundred years old."

The prickle of anticipation grew stronger as Petunia asked, "Where is your shop?"

"In London," Mrs Rowles replied, "It's called Toriceso Books." As she said this, the shiver creeping up and down Harry's spine vanished, just as suddenly as it had appeared.

Before he could ask anything about it however, the topic changed to the latest news, and Harry was left unsure of what had just happened.

---

On July 30th, a day before Harry's birthday, he received a letter from his friend Ron. The battered owl Errol delivered it, and had arrived through the window only half-alive. Hedwig, Harry's snowy owl, immediately moved over in her cage, so the other could get some food and rest.

Harry opened the envelope and quickly read through.

_Harry! _it read in an untidy scrawl,

_How are you? Things are great over here, and Fred and George have been quieter than usual. Mum says it's the 'calm before the storm', but I hope she's wrong; she's expecting us to turn into ducks any minute. Percy's been promoted to second-in-charge at the Department of International Magical Co-operation, so he's been a bit more pompous than usual - and that's about it. Hopefully this calm will last into the school year! Anyway, I'd best get on to the important bit. Mum and Dad want to take you out for your birthday tomorrow, to Diagon Alley. Then we can get our school stuff, and you can get whatever you want with any money you get. _

_Hermione won't come though, because she's in Bulgaria with Krum, so she's ordering her school supplies through owl mail. I've sent her a letter with Pig because he's faster; I hope Errol managed to get this to you before your birthday! _

_If you can come tomorrow, we'll be Apparating down the road and then coming up to collect you at about eleven o'clock in the morning. Mum and Dad want you to wear Muggle clothes underneath your robes, but they're not saying why. I think it's a surprise. _

_If you can't come, we're picking you up anyway, so never mind. _

_See you! _

_Ron _

_P.S: We'll give you your presents in Diagon Alley, rather than send them to you, so don't be worried if you don't get them tomorrow! _

Harry reread the letter, smiling. This was the best news he'd received all holiday, even if Hermione wouldn't be there. He let Errol, who was looking better, out of the cage: the bird hooted thankfully, but Harry blocked the window. "I've just got to ask Uncle Vernon something, and then I need you to take a reply back." he informed it. Errol looked at him annoyed, and then settled down on the bedpost. "Thanks," Harry said thankfully, and raced downstairs.

The permission was easy to get; the Dursley's were only disappointed that he wouldn't be away for the rest of the holidays. "Bit short notice, though." Vernon grunted as he turned the page of the local newspaper, "Damned rude of them. You could be painting the fence tomorrow for all they know." With that, Harry left as quickly as possible, before his uncle decided that he _would_ be painting the fence.

_Ron,_ he replied,

_They say it's okay, so I'll have my stuff ready. Muggle clothes? That's unusual; don't you even have a hint of what they're up to? By the way, I think Fred and George are planning something big, _('The shop probably,' Harry thought, grinning) _but not necessarily pranks on you. Don't ask how I know, because I'm not telling you. _

_I hope you're not annoyed about Krum and Hermione! _

_See you tomorrow, _

_Harry _

_---_

Harry was woken the next morning by the rush of birds through his window, and a fierce pain in his head - although that vanished a few seconds later. He had started leaving it open on his birthdays, so that the birds wouldn't have to wait to get through. The clock on his bedside table read 12:01 AM; he had been fifteen for a whole minute.

There was no sign of any of the Weasley's owls in the flock of them, Harry noticed, as he set to work untying the cords around their legs that held letters, and taking the parcels off them.

One parcel was surprisingly large and heavy, and pulled the four owls carrying it down with its weight; when taken off, the bird perched upright before taking to the air and flapping outside into the night with the others. Hedwig watched them go hungrily, before Harry unlatched her cage and let her fly outside.

Leaving the presents aside, Harry took the first envelope and opened it.

_Dear Harry _

_Happy birthday! Since in all the letters you've written to me this holiday, you've never mentioned the Dursleys, I suppose things are still all right over there. Are you going to Diagon Alley with Ron? He says you need Muggle clothes, though for what reason, I can't guess. As you know, I'm in Bulgaria, staying with Viktor. Apart from the cold, it's amazing; did you the Bulgarians of 1300 AD had their own branch of religion and magic? They even believed it came from their gods! _

_Anyway, as I said before, happy birthday, and I'll see you at school. _

_Hermione _

_P.S: The owl that delivered this is Viktor's. He's letting me borrow him until I get my own; I'm hoping for a Great-Horned owl; they're quite cheap over here, but I'll buy a cage in Hogsmeade when we go on a trip - the cages are really badly made in Bulgaria. _

_P.P.S: I'm a Prefect! _

Harry laughed at her enthusiasm about being a Prefect, and opened her presents. Three objects fell out. The first was a thick book, entitled 'The Ultimate Dictionary of Quidditch'. Harry spent half a minute just admiring the glossy cover, which showed the cups of each continent's league. Remembering there were many more to look at, Harry put it aside and looked at the second book, 'Ancient Bulgarian Magic; The Gift from the Heavens', which explained the ancient Bulgarian beliefs. It appeared that around 1300, they had started a magical religion, comprising tens of gods and goddesses, believing they were chosen by them to wield magic.

Harry had to admit, it did seem fascinating. The third gift from Hermione was considerably smaller; a chain of white leather, with a piece of marble as the pendant. The marble was formed into the shape of a three inch high, beautiful woman, with flowing hair down to her waist. It was carved in minute detail; Harry could even see tiny indentations where her eyes where. She wore a long dress, and an elaborate crown; in her left hand she held a sword, of which the blade was slightly curved, as if made out of a fang, and in her right she held an intricately decorated sceptre, on top of which was a carved flame.

What drew Harry's eyes, however, was that she had dragon-like wings coming out of her back; but on this woman they seemed gentle and curved, rather than jagged and brutal.

"Incredible," Harry gasped, astounded. A note from Hermione, attached to the chain, informed him that this was Y'Laagrondd, supposedly (in Bulgarian Wizards' myth) the Empress of the dragons, which Hermione had found in a curiosity shop. Determining to read about her in the book when he got the time, Harry put the necklace on. The marble was cool against his skin and the leather sat as if it were made for him, not digging in or slipping loose.

Silently thanking Hermione, he moved on. Hagrid's letter was short, wishing him a happy birthday, asking him how he was and informing him that since he wouldn't be back during the first term (due to 'secret business') Professor Grubbly-Planks would be returning. Harry's face fell a bit, but he felt glad when Hagrid proudly informed him that Madame Maxime and he were engaged; although Harry wasn't quite sure whether he'd be as pleased if they were to have children; they'd be enormous.

Hagrid's gifts were some cakes, although they were surprisingly edible, and actually quite delicious. He had a feeling Madame Maxime had been involved in their baking.

Sirius' letter had the same greetings, but this time informed Harry that he wouldn't be able to write as often, since he was doing some important jobs for Dumbledore. Harry felt disappointed at that, but cheered up when he saw the presents; two more books, 'The Marauders Guide to Mischief-Making' (which not only gave ideas for pranks and listed secret-passageways and passwords in Hogwarts, but told stories of ones the Marauders had tried, and their consequences) and 'Rare Powers and Extinct Abilities', which included information on Parseltongues, and twenty Galleons.

There was only one envelope now, and one parcel; the extremely large one. Opening the envelope, Harry read through. It was typical Hogwarts fare; welcome back, a notice about O.W.Ls, and so on. Between these and the lists of equipment however, Harry was startled to read,

'_Students of fifth year and above also have choice whether to take another class for O.W.Ls. This year, the class is Magical Languages, taught by Professor Clayton. If you wish to take part, please see the additional list.'_.

Harry quickly read through what he would need for the year ahead;

**Students will need:** it declared,

**Three pairs of black cotton robes (house shield optional) **

**One pair of dress robes (if old robes no longer fit; otherwise old robes will do) **

**One pair of dragonhide gloves **

**One pair of dragonhide boots **

**One pair of sensible school shoes (if old shoes no longer fit; otherwise old shoes will do) **

**One dress cloak (silver or brass fastenings) **

**Students will need:** it then repeated,

**The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 5)** by Bathilda Bagshot

**Battle with a Basilisk **by Gilderoy Lockhart

**Animals, Beasts and Creatures; The ABC Guide** by Grucia Gallswick

**Advanced History of the Magical World**by Quentin Binns

**Within the Mind, Beyond the Sight** by Clarissa Cleptic

**Taking O.W.Ls; the Quick Way to an Early Grave **by Zachariah Pessamyst

**Cursed: Werewolves, Vampires and other Once-Humans** by Arasmus Attlepot

**The Elegant Universe** by Marsha Minnow

**Apprentice Masters' Potions** by Severus Snape

**If you are interested in taking Magical Languages:**

**So You Want To Speak Mermish?** by Jeremiah Judger

**Pictures in the Mind** by Talia Tripeskin

**Phoenix Communication; The Purest of them All** by Phoebe Phoernicle

Harry nearly choked at the amount of information that the Magical Languages class expected to learn. To learn Mermish and the Phoenix language in one year? And he didn't have a clue what language the second one was about. He hesitated for a moment; it did sound hard, but it also sounded - as Hermione would put it - fascinating.

Deciding he'd check the prices of the books in Diagon Alley, Harry put it down and turned to the last package. It was huge, and Harry wondered how it had got through the window, before he realised that there must be a charm on it's packaging. It was rectangular, and wrapped in brown paper, tied with twine. Harry undid it and pulled the paper open. It was a large chest, with five key holes going across its front.

It was made of chestnut, with gold for the keyholes; Harry recognised it instantly. It was one of the same chests that the fake Moody had the year before. Lifting the lid, Harry found it to be unlocked; the first compartment was quite small - perhaps as deep as a large drawer. Inside was a golden hoop with a key of the same material on it, and a thick letter. Harry, still amazed by the chest, lifted the letter out and slit the envelope open. There was another envelope inside it, but Harry read through the piece of paper that was also contained within.

_Mr Potter, _

_This trunk and the items inside were left to you in trust by your parents until you were seventeen, unless your parents were deceased before then; in which case it was to be given to you on your fifteenth birthday. As the requirement has been fulfilled, this is your trust fund. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Gringotts Bank _

With that, Harry rushed to open the other envelope. It had on it a seal; what Harry realised was the Potter crest. It was of a green dragon breathing silver flames upwards; and from the flames came a magnificent red and gold Phoenix, wings spread. On the left it read 'From The Ashes' and on the right, 'We Shall Rise'.

Harry's hands trembled as he opened the second envelope, knowing that it was from his parents. He forced himself to stop quivering as he pried the letter from inside, and slowly read.

_Dear Harry _

_As you are reading this, it means that James and I are dead. I have no way of knowing whether it happened recently, or many years ago, but I can say that we are sorry for having left you, and that we love you with all our souls. _

_Your father and I knew that Voldemort had a spy within our circle of friends - perhaps our deaths were because of him, or perhaps we were not even killed by Voldemort - and we took refuge in James' childhood home of Godrics Hollow, where I write this letter now. If all is going to plan, you went to live with Sirius, and will be going to start your fifth year at Hogwarts. _

_This year, I can safely say, will be different from your other years. It will be dangerous_ (Harry smiled at this; if only his parents knew what danger he had faced the previous years) _and you will learn many new, important things. _

_There have been a lot of secrets kept from you, which I cannot apologise enough for, and until the right time, all I can say is that you are possibly the most unique, special child to walk the planet; and a great destiny is planned for you, as well as you being planned for destiny. Remember that though it may appear that nothing is what it seems, mine and your father's love for you is as real as you ever thought, and we send you this inheritance to help you through the coming year and beyond. _

_With all our love, your mother and father, _

_Lily Evans-Potter and James Potter _

Harry put the letter back in the envelope and closed it over; it sealed as though it had never been opened.

Then he gently put the envelope back in the first section of the chest, his mind awhirl with thoughts. What secrets could have been kept from him? Why Voldemort had wanted to kill the Potters? That seemed likely, but it was only one secret, and Lily had said '_secrets_' - plural. Shaking his head, Harry forced it out of his mind. If he were going find out the answers this year, why worry about the questions? He thought about the next sentence; the most unique, special child - a great destiny - what could she mean by that?

Harry wiped this thought from his mind as well, and took the key from the compartment. He locked the first section closed, and moved on to the second. This was about five times as deep as the last one, and filled (as far as he could see) with small, black boxes, like jewellery boxes. Each one had an elegant white number written on it, and they were packed in twelves across and eights down.

Curious, Harry picked out the first, which had a slim '1' on the lid, and pulled it open. The hinge slid easily and silently, revealing a white silk interior with -

A black key, the white number 1 engraved into it, as though it were made in white and coated in black.

Feeling a sudden chill, Harry closed it and put it back as quickly as possible. He checked the next one; the same, but for the number two instead. About two-hundred keys, numbered and set out carefully? He wondered as to what they were for as he locked them away and tried unlocking and opening the third.

There were no keys or cases in this part; instead there sat a large pile of papers at the bottom of a compartment as large as the previous. Harry flicked through them; they were important looking documents, and so they should be - they were deeds to various houses. The first was for Godrics Hollow, which Harry realised was the now-destroyed house that Voldemort had killed his parents in. The second was the 'Potter Estate' deed, which Harry had never heard of; and there were various others - ones which had no names, only addresses; cottages; there were even some studio apartments in Florida, London, Paris, Cairo, New York...

Harry almost threw the papers back into the chest. What the heck was going on! Why would his parents have had homes across the world, and why had no-one told him? It had to be a joke. Had to. But Harry knew that it wasn't; this must be part of the secret, he realised despondently.

The fourth compartment was extremely deep, but also empty; the fifth was just as deep, but empty as well.

Harry sat before it in silence for a few minutes, his mind blank, before snapping suddenly back to reality when Dudley snored loud enough to be heard through the wall.

He set his gifts out in the chest, putting the money in the first compartment, and locked it, putting the key in his bedside drawer. Then he crawled back in bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

---

The morning, though there was really plenty of time to prepare for the Weasleys, was a rush to get ready. Harry was allowed to put his school-equipment into the trunk (after a few promises involving the dirty garage and a lot of cleaning equipment), and he wore the same Muggle clothes with the guests over a week before, carrying his robes folded under his arm.

The Weasleys arrived right on time; just a few seconds past eleven, the doorbell rang, and a muffled voice beyond it could be heard exclaiming loudly how ingenious it was to make miniature button to alert occupants of visitors. Dudley, upon hearing the bell, turned pale, gave a loud squeak and fled for the safety of upstairs.

Petunia suddenly found a reason to go into the back garden, and Vernon turned a pale green and swallowed hard, as if steeling himself to meet people who used the dreaded 'M-word'.

While all this was going on, Harry leapt from where he was waiting and pulled open the door. Mr and Mrs Weasley, dressed in Muggle clothes, beamed at him, Molly's smile a little forced as she tried to pry her husband away from ringing the bell again. Vernon quickly took a step back towards the kitchen. "Well-it's-very-nice-to-see-you-here's-Harry-don't-want-to-keep-you-so-goodbye-feel-free-to-stay-out-as-long-as-you-want-so-long." he speedily informed them; then rushed forwards and manhandled Harry out the door, before slamming it behind him.

There was a brief moment of silence. "Hello." said Harry cheerfully. "I suppose everyone else is meeting us in Diagon Alley, then?"

Ron finished his sundae (the chocolate and whipped cream 'Excalibur' special) and continued his rant to Harry. "And _then _you're getting your presents, and _then _Mum and Dad said we're going to get changed into Muggle clothes in the Leaky Cauldron back room, but she didn't say why."

"Maybe we're going into Muggle London?" Harry suggested lazily as he flicked through a leaflet a Witch had pushed into his hands - 'Madame Malkins Half-Price Sale!' it declared in bold writing.

Ron frowned. "Good idea, but I dunno; why would be going out there? Not for very long, surely."

"Are you two eating _ice-creams_?" came a shocked but authoritative voice. The two boys turned around and Ron groaned quietly. "Hello Percy," said Harry politely as the elder boy took a seat between the two.

"You _are_ eating ice-creams." Percy declared in horror to the world.

"No, they're just very good illusions." Ron said coldly. "What do you want?"

"To tell you that you shouldn't be eating too much," Percy scowled. "We're going to dinner later - and it's _special _one." he emphasised before, getting up and stalking away.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Well, I think he just spoiled Mum and Dad's surprise." he mused to Harry. "Well, Mum's getting our books, and we have three hours until we meet up at Gringotts; where do you want to go?"

---

The next two hours were a delightful blur to Harry; they drooled over the latest brooms in Quality Quidditch Supplies, Ron clasped his new dress robes (courtesy of Fred and George) proudly, they searched for interesting books in the many book shops along the Alley (leaving Flourish and Blotts, which had a huge crowd), they sampled some new chocolates in the small London branch of Honeydukes (though Harry insisted they not eat too much, for he didn't want to disappoint Mrs Weasley at the meal by not eating anything) until finally they left a small magical jewellery shop to find that next door to it was a long, dark alley. Harry recognised the sign on the wall instantly.

"Ron," he said, grabbing him before the other boy could move on to the next shop, "Look! It's Knockturn Alley." At this, Ron turned to stare in fascination down the depths of the path. "Could we go in?" he pleaded, "just for a quick look around?"

Harry licked his lips. "I think we should stay in Diagon Alley." he said warily, but Ron groaned loudly. "No-one's around to see us go in, and why bother pointing it out if you don't want to?" he pointed out. "We won't be much longer than a few minutes."

Harry gave in to the persuasion. "Fine." he agreed, as he smoothed his fringe down over his scar. "But only for a while."

"Right, right." said Ron, obviously not listening, and dragged Harry to his first willing steps down the Alley.

Facing the opposite direction to Diagon Alley, it meant the street was bathed in shadows, and the narrow path was in a state of mild disrepair. The first shop they came across was a potion ingredient shop, which they shied nervously away from when they saw dead owls hanging upside down through the window.

The next few shops were nearly as gruesome, but Ron was only too happy to go into the fourth one along; a second-hand shop full of various Dark goods, large and small.

"Look at this one!" Ron gasped peering into a dusty glass case containing a swirling black ball of mist, which hammered at the glass as it tried to escape. The price card set it as sixty Galleons.

Harry nervously went as far as he could from it, and soon found himself out of the glaring gaze of the shop-keeper, and surrounded by dusty, dirty shelves full of stock that he was doubtful of being able to buy in Diagon Alley. A skull, cobwebs in its sockets, grinned up at him and a book pulled at its chain and snapped its cover at him.

A moment after he'd decided that it would probably be best to _just get out_, a gleam of white in the murky gloom caught his eye. He turned back to it, and saw another glimpse of it. Pushing aside a ceremonial dagger and a bag of tiny, transparent spheres in his curiosity, he found what it was.

A simple, white, rose ring.

Not white entirely; the ring was white gold, with silver running in random swirls around it, delicate and detailed. On it was set a white, unidentifiable material, made into the shape of a closed-over rose, each petal apparently hand engraved, the tiny wrinkles and folds carved in so that the white rose appeared soft and real.

Harry picked it up gently and felt a tiny quiver run through his index finger. Complying with the urge he felt, he slipped it on; it fit perfectly.

"What've you found?" Ron nearly yelled, suddenly appearing over Harry's shoulder. Harry jumped in shock, knocking the bag of spheres in his fright. It opened and a few rolled over the table; Harry grabbed some and stuffed them back into the bag. "Will you _please_ stop sneaking up on me?" Harry hissed, closing the bag over again. "Are you buying anything?" he asked, seeing Ron holding something in his left hand.

"Yeah, this," said Ron, opening his clenched fist and showing Harry the contents. He was holding what appeared to be a normal eraser. "It's a Concealer." he announced proudly. "Just rub it over some words and they'll disappear. You can't see them again without a Revealer, and I got one of them last year. What've you got?"

"It's just a really nice ring I found," Harry said carelessly, as he moved to pull it off his finger. He frowned. "It's stuck!" He pulled a little harder, and then started trying to twist it round. It didn't even move a millimetre.

Ron's face went pale. "Maybe it's a cursed ring, and it saps the life force of anyone it gets attached to!" he gasped in horror, which didn't give Harry much relief. "Let's just ask the shop-keeper." Harry relented almost immediately. After all, what kind of idiot would sell something in their shop without knowing what it was?

It turned out to be the same kind of idiot that was running the shop they were in. He took a final look at it, squinting through nastily sparkling eyes, and tapped the ring with his wand for the tenth time. "It's stuck." he expertly diagnosed. "If it kills you, I'll give your friend the money back."

"Money?" Harry choked, staring at the rose.

The man glared at him and Ron. "Well, you'll obviously have to buy it, won't you? Otherwise, t'would be stealing." He glared even harder and leaned over the counter. "I'll knock some cash off because you have no choice, but it's still going to be five Galleons."

Harry winced at the price, but handed it over - it was his own stupidity that made him out it on, so it was his own fault. Ron gave him a sympathetic look and gave the merchant the two sickles for the Concealer.

"Well, the Concealer isn't Dark, so I can say I picked it up in Diagon Alley," he said as they returned to mentioned street, Harry having had quite enough of Knockturn Alley. "But I think you should keep the ring unmentioned. If it _is _Dark, the reporters'll have a field day - everyone'll be thinking you're a Death Eater." ended Ron gloomily. "Just don't mention it, and if anyone asks, say you found it in an antique shop."

"Good plan." They entered Flourish and Blotts, where Mrs Weasley had already been to collect their school books. "I'll just be a minute," Ron explained carelessly, and Harry knew he'd be longer; "I want to buy Hermione's birthday present. It's only in early September, so I should get it now."

Harry groaned. "I forgot that! I was planning to get her a cage for her owl in Eeylops Owl Emporium, but I forgot to go in. We'll have to stop off on the way back."

"Fine." said Ron cheerfully, and disappeared off to the spellbook section of the nearly empty store. Harry ventured over to the informative books, where he picked up a few interesting books and started to read.

By the time that Ron waved him over to the counter, Harry was clutching an armful of reading material. Ron gawked at him as he set the load of books down on the table with a loud '_thud_'. "Are you setting up a library, or something?" the red-head asked in disbelief.

Harry stifled a laugh. "What did you get for 'Mione?"

"The Complete Guide to Magical Birds, and Wizarding Myths and Superstitions," Ron told him as the woman behind the counter put the books in paper bags for them. "You?"

Harry handed him the receipt to read through, and paid for his purchases. Ron frowned as he read through the list. "_A Guide to the Cabbalistic Hierarchy_? _Ethical Magic_? _The Cosmic Classic of One Thousand Invocations_? _The Dictionary of Magical Languages_? _Magical Art and Sculpture_? _The Domestic Use of Glamours_? _A Discussion on the Uses and Placing of Magic_? Harry, are you feeling all right? You're not turning into Hermione, are you?"

"I'm fine, Ron. They're just really interesting, that's all." Harry sighed, hiding his amusement. "Cages now?"

---

They entered Eeylops Owl Emporium with thirty minutes to spare until they were to meet at Gringotts. Whilst Ron went to buy some more owl pellets, Harry found the perfect cage for Hermione's owl. It was golden, and instead of bars going down, they went around and up in an elegant spiral.

After that, they ventured back to Gringotts. Harry brought out some more money - he only had a few Sickles left from his shopping - and they waited by the entrance for the rest of the Weasleys, who arrived a few minutes later, all with their arms dragged down by the weight of their shopping.

Harry wondered how they could afford it all - the Weasleys were hardly the richest of families - but was too polite to ask. Percy was the only one without a bunch of bags; "I've ordered my work equipment by owl-post." he informed Harry proudly, while Ron pretended to fall asleep.

"Well, now," beamed Mrs Weasley, "We'll just change the money into Muggle currency, and drop all this off at The Leaky Cauldron, and then be off. Harry dear, have you dropped something?"

Harry glanced at the floor; one of the tiny, transparent spheres from the Dark Arts shop had fallen out of his pocket. He picked it up in surprise, but before he could say anything, Ron declared, "Oh, _that's_ where you put it. Just stick it in the bags with everything else, Harry." He stared at Harry, his eyes urging him to do as he said.

Harry did so, confused by Ron. As Mr Weasley changed the money to pounds and pence, Harry hissed, "What did you do that for? It must have slipped in my pocket when you shocked me, I haven't even paid for it! I have to take it back to the shop."

"Oh, right." Ron muttered back, "Brilliant idea. Tell Mum you're just going to take it back, and she'll want to come with you. I don't think she needs to know we went into Knockturn Alley at all, or she'd have a fit!"

"Are you saying we keep it?" Harry asked in shock.

Ron sighed. "Normally, I'd say no, but you didn't do it on purpose, and it's not like you stole the whole bag of them. Besides, we don't know what it even is - and the shop-keeper ripped you off with that ring, anyway."

"S'pose so." Harry admitted gloomily. "But if it's Dark, I'm getting rid of it."

---

In the back room of The Leaky Cauldron, the group pulled off their robes to reveal Muggle clothes underneath. They were surprisingly good on the Weasleys; the last time they'd try to look like Muggles, they looked more like a rejects from a second-hand clothes store.

Fred and George were dressed identically in orange shirts which matched their hair, and black jeans. Ginny was wearing a blue dress with an embroidered purple fuchsia on the left shoulder; she also slipped a blue and purple headband on. Percy was wearing charcoal grey trousers and a plain white top, and Ron was dressed in a black t-shirt with jeans. Mrs Weasley had a long white dress, and Mr Weasley wore a navy-blue suit. Harry was donning a blue top and black trousers.

"And now for presents." Mr Weasley announced, dragging a large bag up from where it was hidden behind a faded, flowery couch. Harry fought a blush as all attention was set on him, and reluctantly allowed himself to be pushed down onto one of the chairs. The others sat on the chairs around him, while the adults stood.

Taking a box from the bag, Mr Weasley read the tag. "The first is from Ginny," he announced, making Ginny blush this time as he gave it to Harry, who opened it after thanking her. It was a book called '_Familiar Animals, Familiar Spirits_', on the subject of Familiars; rare animals which bonded with magic-users. Although Harry wasn't even sure how he was to get through the books he had already bought, it did appear exciting (albeit large) and he thanked her again.

The second present, from Fred and George, was a watch, 'because we knew your old one was broken'. It had a scarlet strap and a white face with gold numbers and hands, attached to the strap with a ring of gold. It had many white buttons around the outside; insisting on leaving a few of them so that Harry could find out what they did, the twins showed him what a few of them did - the first made the face numbers and hands illuminate so he could see them in the dark, the second made the numbers change to 'Home', 'Traveling', 'Shops', 'School', 'Work', 'Other', 'In Danger', 'Lost' and 'Dead', while the hands changed to names (although he had yet to set them, there could be ten different people in it, though it only showed one at a time). The third button changed the watch to a Lunarclock, the fourth could record a message, the fifth could play back the message, and the sixth showed the date.

The seventh to twelfth remained a mystery to Harry.

"Plus, we've added our own enchantment to it," winked Fred (or was it George?). "Now that you've put it on, if anyone else tries to wear it, they'll turn into a frog for an hour."

Harry couldn't thank them enough for this as he fantasised about giving it to Malfoy for a while and watching him hop around the school corridors. Percy had bought him a present as well, which was surprising; a type of light, black leather, wand holster which hung by his left hand side so that he could easily stretch across and reach it with his right hand.

"Duelling is banned in Britain, so I hope you won't use it for that." Percy commented, sounding more like an order. Harry quickly nodded and thanked him.

Mr and Mrs Weasley gave Harry a small bottle of what appeared to be eyedrops, but was actually eye-correcting fluid. Just five drops in each eye would strengthen the tissue and correct it, repairing the sight within a few days. It wouldn't do anything for the blind, but would easily fix long or short-sightedness.

Charlie and Bill (who were still away in other countries; Charlie in Romania and Bill in Switzerland) also sent a shared present; a huge box of sweets and candies from countries they'd been to recently. Ron's present was the final one, contained within a thin envelope. Opening it, Harry grinned at its contents. Three tickets to the Chudley Cannons - Montrose Magpies Quidditch game on August twenty-eighth.

"I had to order them from the Daily Prophet a few months ago." Ron said after Harry finally stopped thanking him, "Before I knew Hermione would be in Bulgaria, so we'll have to find someone else to come with us."

Harry scanned his memories of someone to invite. "I don't know if he'll be able to come," he said slowly, "but I have someone in mind..."

---

It turned out that it _was_ dinner the Weasleys were taking them to; a special birthday dinner for Harry in Muggle London, at Planet Hollywood. This would have been a treat for anyone, but for Harry, who had only heard of it and seen it on TV - as well as having never eaten at _any_ Muggle restaurant before - it seemed like a dream come true.

After a huge meal; again, Harry was too polite to ask how they were affording this huge splash-out; they were allowed to visit the shops nearby. While Mrs Weasley took Fred and George around, because she didn't trust them, and Percy and Ginny went with their father, to keep him in check if he started loudly announcing his love of Muggle objects, Ron was allowed to go on his own with Ron, since he had been brought up by Muggles.

This is the point where I'm afraid I must back-track to near the start of this tale; to the visit of Mr and Mrs Rowles. You see, their mentioning the bookshop Mrs Rowles owned was an insignificant event; but it was this that Fate turned into a turning point. If they hadn't have mentioned it, Harry and Ron would have walked straight past the musty looking shop, with its wooden sign, 'Toriceso Books', written in curly letters.

However, they _had_ mentioned it; and so Harry paused as they walked past it, making Ron stop as well. "Can we just go in here?" Harry asked, simple curiosity egging him on. "I met the owner once, and she seemed really nice." Ron agreed, for they had half an hour left, and they entered the store.

A bell clanged, rather attractively, as they closed the door behind them. The shop was small, with a counter to the right, filled with old books in the glass front, and everywhere else were more and more books; hardcover, leather-bound, coverless, brown, black, faded, russet, navy, large, small, thin, thick, rotting and well-kept, all squashed together in wide shelves and cupboards which reached from the floor to the ceiling.

Even though the books were old, battered, sometimes torn, and thick with cobwebs and dust, they somehow still seemed well-loved and cherished, rather than just tossed around. The darkness was comforting and cosy, rather than frightening or cold. Behind the counter, Mrs Rowles looked up from a thick, yellowing book, and smiled at them. "Harry! I didn't expect you to come. Who's your friend?"

"This is Ron Weasley; Ron, this is Mrs Rowles." Harry introduced, already feeling at home. "I just wanted to come in and have a look around."

"That's fine," the woman said. "Just give a shout if you need any help."

It was interesting enough to look through the shelves and cabinets, but Harry quickly found that there was something very unusual about his ring. As he passed by one shelf, the white rose suddenly glowed a pale gold and vibrated gently on his finger. "Ron!" Harry hissed, holding his hand up. "Look at the ring!"

Ron looked; and then looked again, this time worried. "When did it start?"

"When I got near that shelf," Harry explained, "I think it's tracking something."

He held it closer to the shelf; it glowed a little brighter and quivered a tiny bit harder. Ron stepped closer and moved some of the books aside. "There's some kind of alcove behind the books." he told Harry, reaching his arm in. "It's pretty deep... hang on - there's something in here!" He twisted his arm further in and appeared to be grasping something. "I think it's a box; it's really heavy."

"The ring's going nuts!" Harry gasped, trying to hold it still. It helped a little, but not much. "Whatever's making this happen is in that box. Can you get it out?"

"Got it!" Ron groaned, finally managing to heave it out. He just managed to grab it before it hit the floor, and placed it gently on the threadbare carpet. The ring stopped trembling, glowed a brilliant gold, and then slipped off Harry's hand, landing near the box. As it hit the floor, it faded back to its usual white.

Harry picked it up, and Ron wiped the dust off the box. It was quite large and deep; about the size of a normal video recorder, but made of mahogany. It didn't seem to have a lid or hinge, but instead had decorations of gold swirls and curls around it and a small indentation of an open flower on the top.

"The decorations match the ones on the ring." Harry whispered, not wanting to be heard by Mrs Rowles. "Do you have bright ideas about how to open it?"

"Not a clue," Ron muttered; "But look on the front side, between the top and the bottom." He twisted it round so that Harry could see. There was a border of elegant gold swirls, and inside them were two, white words, written in block capital, typewriter style, which strangely seemed to fit the chest (it that's what it was);

**TECHNO-MAGIC**


	2. Chapter 2: Air

Chapter 2: Air

---

"There is nothing so nice as supposing." - A Little Princess

---

"Techno-Magic?" Ron frowned. "Pity Hermione isn't here; I've never heard of that before."

"Neither have I." Harry admitted, waving the ring experimentally near the chest. "How do you suppose we open it?" he asked, curiosity again overpowering him.

"Well, the carved bit on the chest is shaped like a rose." Ron noticed, "Why don't you try the ring near there?"

Harry shrugged and put the object face down near the indentation. As it was about an inch away, the rose on the jewellery, previously closed over, let its petals swiftly open out to match the groove. Breathing hard in excitement and fear, Harry pushed it into the mark. Immediately there was a 'click' sound; and nothing happened.

The ring had fit perfectly, making it look like a smooth chest with a tiny handle, rather than a chest with a ring sticking out, but it hadn't done anything. Harry sighed and tried to pull it out. It was stuck.

He pulled a little harder, under Ron's watchful gaze; nothing happened.

Harry leaned back and released the ring. "Give up." Ron sighed. "It was pretty cool whilst it lasted, but it looks like it needs something else to make it work. God knows what a Magical chest is doing in here, anyway."

But Harry wouldn't give up. He'd paid a lot for that ring, and besides, he wasn't going to let a box beat him.

He bought it for five pounds, Mrs Rowles thinking it was just a piece of rubbish - after all, it couldn't open.

---

"Thanks!" Harry called again, as the Weasleys left. As soon as they were gone, Vernon opened the door. "Get in boy!" he barked, "Don't want the neighbours to see you."

Harry grabbed his bags from the doorstep and hurried inside, dodging past Dudley and heading to his room to unpack his gifts and purchases. "You'd better have had supper, because we've already finished!" Vernon hollered up, and Harry responded with a quick 'Yes thank you, Uncle Vernon.'.

---

In his room, Harry set his books, school equipment and clothes out in his chest, having decided to take Magical Languages. He put the cage in one of the deep sections, and the marble-like orb in with the letters. Finally, he came to the bottom of the bag; the box with 'Techno-Magic' written on it. He held it up and stared at it for a second before taking a deep breath, and pulling the ring again.

A black line appeared around the sides; the edge of a lid.

The box was open.

Harry paused only for a second, before grabbing the sides of the lid and pulling it off. He set it down beside the box and looked inside it. The insides were lined with red, crushed velvet, and there was a sheet of red silk covering the top of what appeared to be another box. Harry took the silk out, and stared in surprise and disbelief at what it had covered.

It was snow white, and of average size; at each corner, there was a decoration of gold curls, matching the ones on the ring and on the box. Harry reached in and gently lifted it out - it was quite light.

Even with the lid down, it was obvious what it was. It was a Muggle laptop.

Harry searched round the back of it, but there didn't seem to be anywhere for it to plug in, or insert batteries.

He pushed down the grip on the front, and pulled it open: there were perfectly normal keys, with the English alphabet; there was a normal touch pad to use as a mouse; there was a volume control and small speaker near the front. On the inside of the lid, there was a perfectly normal screen, with no smears or dirt.

In fact, there were no smears or dirt _anywhere_ on the laptop. It looked brand new and completely modern, even though it had probably been sitting in the shop for years; and even longer if you included the time to lose the ring, and for it to end up in a shop. '_Perhaps_,' Harry mused, '_it's self-updating, like some of the books in the school library._' He shook this thought from his mind as he turned again to admiring the object.

As his eyes scanned over the keys, he noticed a plain, white button on the top left. It was obviously the power button; but with no power source, it couldn't do anything. Harry tapped a few keys experimentally; they moved smoothly, not like they had been untouched for years. Puzzled by the seemingly useless technology, he tapped the power button - and almost jerked backwards in surprise as it booted up.

It loaded silently, not a whir or buzz anywhere inside it; the black screen simply faded to a pale cream, before bringing up the shortcuts as on a normal Muggle computer, and the usual 'Start' button and time at the bottom.

Harry looked through the shortcuts in amazement; this was definitely magic. 'My Computer' was there; so was 'Internet Explorer', 'Recycle Bin', 'Notepad'; and for some strange reason, 'Learnings', which had the image of a book as its symbol, and 'Techno-Chat', which had a phone as its symbol. Finally, there was one shortcut called 'about.txt' with the Notepad icon.

Harry moved the pointer (a wand, he noted amusedly) across to the .txt document with the touch pad, and double clicked it with the left button above the pad. Immediately a Notepad file opened up and Harry read it slowly.

_About Techno-Magic_

_Congratulations on finding yourself the possessor of this advanced device! As you are reading this, you've obviously worked out how to open the container, and have the necessary item of jewellery for doing so. It also shows you have a curiosity about what this device is, and about Techno-Magic, which I hope I can satisfy for you._

_This device is one of the few, sole carriers of the knowledge and power of the Techno-Magi. Techno-Magic is a type of magic, practised by only a select group; it gives control over, and mastery and understanding of technology, whether Magical or Muggle._

_Techno-Magic is the result of blending the Muggle and Magical worlds to create a new form of power; not new now, of course, being more than centuries old. You are probably wondering how this advanced machine; and even mastery of technology itself; could possibly have been invented hundreds of years ago, when Earth was still so primitive, and all will be explained in due course - though not yet, for untrained, you are not ready for this answer._

_I will move on now, to what this device is exactly. As I have said, it is a carrier of knowledge; it contains spells and information known to the founders of Techno-Magic, and those after them. When the time comes, and you are a master of this Magic, you will put your own knowledge into this for those after you; or perhaps you will take an apprentice of your own, whether it be a family member, friend, or just someone worthy of the honour._

_I say 'apprentice', rather than 'apprentices'; for at a time, you must only have one apprentice, and it must be someone you trust and know to be deserving. When the apprentice is fully trained, they too can leave their apprenticeship and take their own apprentice, and possibly you take another yourself - but Techno-Magic is a secretive skill, one that should not be bragged of, or shown off._

_You may already have noticed this if you tried to open the container in front of someone. Only the person who set the jewellery in the container may open it, and only when they are alone. If another person looks at the screen when it is turned on, however, they will see what you are doing, so be sure to hide your work._

_If the Techno-Magic decides you are not deserving of the power - one way for this to happen is for you to flaunt your powers, or tell someone of them without good reason - , it will not allow you to turn the device on, and the power already in you will be taken back. If this happens, the power will search for someone more worthy, by separating the jewellery from the container, and making sure the chosen person comes into contact with it. Then the person can find the device by going where the ring leads them._

_I leave it up to you to use the Magic as you want, and to find the boundaries and allowances of Techno-Magic for yourself, but I leave you these pieces of information, simply set out, to help you._

_If you want to insert a disk or CD, simply push it into the right hand side of the device, which will merge around it and accept it normally. Techno-Magic doesn't need a wand, staff, toka, or any other object to manipulate magic; it relies solely on the caster, so if you wish to rid yourself of your magical focus, feel free to do so. You are a fully-trained Techno-Mage and ready for an apprentice when you've finished the 'Beginner' and 'Intermediate' levels. Until then, you are an apprentice. The device is self-updating once you've become a full Techno-Mage, and shall immediately insert the 'Adept' and 'Expert' spells, as well as explaining how Techno-Magic first came to be, and how it is centuries old; this information is forbidden from Apprentices, who may betray the secret. There are 4 other Techno-Magi as of this moment; 2 are apprentices, 2 are fully trained. You may communicate with them and ask questions or give help or simply talk, by clicking 'Techno-Chat', although they may not be on, or may be unwilling to talk. The shortcuts on the desktop are as follows; _

_'My Computer' - brings up a list of what is on the device, and information on them such as file sizes; there is no memory limit._

_'Internet Explorer' - this opens what Muggles and Muggleborns call the Internet. It is a vast network of information and communication between computers, and if you do not understand it, it would be best if you researched it.  
'Recycle Bin' - this is the place that deleted files go to, so you have a chance to restore them.  
'Notepad' - This is a simple application for writing on; this file is written on it.  
'Learnings' - this opens a menu of the information and spells stored on the device, searchable by name, subject, age, book, or power level.  
'Techno-Chat' - as said before, this is a method of instant communication between Techno-Magi. It is similar to online-chat on the Internet, in that two or more people must be on to talk. If someone wishes to call you into a chat, a message will alert you._

_Whereas most technology cannot be used around large amounts of magic, this device and anything created by a Techno-Mage have a bit of Techno-Magic in them; this means that their very technology is magical, and will work perfectly even when surrounded by magic. There is no Dark or Light magic, but if there were, Techno-Magic could be used for either. Use it however you see fit, but remember that it can be taken as easily as it were given, and that it is not unbeatable. _

_And finally; good luck._

Harry finished reading the file and closed it down. Techno-Magic? It sounded unbelievable! But if it were all a joke, then it was a very good one - if someone had lost their power, then the laptop and ring would've found its way to someone worthy; and that was exactly how Harry had come into it. And it was right that Harry wasn't able to open the box while Ron was watching, nor Mrs Rowles when he took it to the counter.

Feeling half-excited, half-apprehensive, a surge of eagerness overcame him. To have such power! Even if he couldn't tell anyone what it was, that didn't mean he couldn't use it in front of them - and if it were wandless, as well, then that would be even more useful. It wasn't as though he were going to use it for anything bad, after all.

Getting a flash of inspiration, he searched through his chest for the book Sirius gave him, '_Rare Powers and Extinct Abilities_'. Finding it, he flicked past the shiny cover to the contents; Part two contained given powers, rather than inborn ones, and Harry scanned through the list. There was no mention of Techno-Magic or any other similar talent, anywhere in the book. Blaming it on the secrecy of the group, Harry double clicked on the 'Learnings' to get a glimpse of what lay ahead if he decided to train as a Techno-Mage.

The 'Learnings' section was not a document, but a program; after no time at all of loading, it brought up a menu with the title 'Apprentice; Beginner' and different selections - Spells, Potions, Information, Languages, Technology, Search, and Miscellaneous.

Knowing what the others must include, Harry moved straight on to Technology. Instantly, the screen changed again, giving more selections; on computer codes, hacking, tracing, introductions for non-Muggle-borns to Muggle technology, sending untraceable e-mail, creating AI life-forms, controlling electrical items through will-power alone; anything technological, whether involving Magic or not, was there.

Harry clicked back, and (skipping search) entered the Miscellaneous section. It was another menu, including parts such as how to connect the laptop to normal Muggle equipment such as printers or scanners, how to insert information into the spell archives so that every Techno-Mage could gain access to it, how the laptop would 'clone' itself for an apprentice when they became fully-trained, how to take an apprentice and train them, and even more.

As Harry moved the pointer to scroll down the rest of the options, he noticed the time in the bottom right-hand corner; 10:32 pm. Hurriedly, Harry shut the laptop down and prepared for bed before the Dursleys saw his light on, promising himself that he start seriously considering whether to become an apprentice, the next day.

---

Harry wasn't able to keep to that promise however - at least not for a while - for Vernon insisted that Harry fulfil his promise, and clean out the garage. This by itself took the whole morning and afternoon, with only a few short breaks for breakfast and dinner, and it was only at four o'clock in the evening that Harry finally pulled down the sliding door to the garage, and trudged inside.

Aunt Petunia took one look at him, wrinkled her nose, and demanded he went upstairs and had a shower, while Dudley picked disgustedly through his salad. Harry complied readily, and when he was dressed again, grabbed the laptop and sat down on the bed, switching it on as he did so.

On a whim, Harry clicked on the Chat option and watched as a chat-screen came up. He changed his screenname from 'Unnamed' to 'Harry', but no-one else was on, so he closed the screen down and hurried through the menus until her reached the search section, where he typed the word 'Y'Laagrondd', the name of the figure on his pendant, into the space provided, and clicked the 'find' button.

There were several sections found; a few on myths, some with spells calling upon her, and finally a list of ancient Bulgarian gods and goddesses.

Y'Laagrondd (Yla-gron-ed), the list informed him, along with a picture of the figure on his pendant - Harry noticed she looked even more incredible in colour, with the midnight-black wings arching above her.

This was the goddess and empress of dragons and serpents. As the Aurors of Bulgaria had a dragon as their symbol, she was their patron goddess, and said to be in charge of warriors and wars, as well. She had a temple built to her, unseen to Muggle eyes, and had weekly offerings of sacrifices. At times of war, she would have a sacrifice of a human volunteer, for good luck in the battles. Her colour was white, and she was often symbolised as a white dragon or snake, a beautiful warrior-woman with dragon wings, or a young girl with a snake's head or body.

She was said to be the sister of Tko, the wife of Caron and the mother of the twins Syneeta and Belinda. (Those familiar with the myths may know that Syneeta killed Belinda in a fit of jealously, and was sentenced to become a daemon for the crime.) Each god and goddess had two divine objects, and Y'Laagrondd was no exception. She was said to hold a magical sword; its blade made of a claw from an Aetherius dragon (a huge species long extinct), which could cut through anything. She also held a sceptre to show her status as empress, which was made of rowan, a powerfully magical tree, and had a carved flame at the top. It was said she could create forest fires with it.

As she was in charge of serpents and dragons, the priestess at her temple (as an empress, she did not allow priests) was typically either a Snake-Speaker - nowadays known as a Parseltongue; or a Dragon-Discusser, now an extinct ability, but usually called Dractois. Rarely, the priestess was both, as in the case of Herklinn the second and N'Reesecuth the first, and even more rarely one of the gifts of language was bestowed upon the goddess' chosen people. Y'Laagrondd was said to have promised that one day a priest would take charge of the temple, after the priestesses had gone, but the religion of the ancient Bulgarian magic-users; Maestroan; fell some years later.

Of the few who still follow the old religion, there are usually two or three people who take care of Y'Laagrondd's temple, preserving their faith and waiting through the generations for the priest who will not come.

Y'Laagrondd is one of the most important deities in this religion, and the main female one. Much snake magic was founded because of study of Maestroan, and there is probably yet more to discover.

She was said to be a powerful, just and kind goddess, who cared deeply for her subjects; but when disasters such as fires or volcanoes happened, she was said to be angry, and a sacrifice was made to appease her.

Harry had only just finished reading the entry on the goddess, when there was a small beep from the laptop, and a blue message sprang up in the top right corner of the screen. Another Mage wanted to talk to him on the Chat.

Eager to meet another like him, and gain their advice on whether he should train, he minimised the 'Learnings' program and double-clicked on the message. It brought up the same chat screen he'd seen the night before, except that now there was someone else there. Their screenname was Rhiannon, and as Harry watched, they sent him a greeting. He typed in a reply - another greeting - and pressed enter to post it.

The conversation was short and to the point; Rhiannon was a thirteen year old, previously Muggle apprentice in Brazil, who had happened across her ring (not a rose, but a dragonfly) in a jewellery store when she was ten, and had found the laptop in a rubbish skip when the neighbours were re-landscaping their garden, just a year ago.

She was an optimistic, bright girl, who had accepted quite happily the idea of magic, and was training by herself. There was also, she informed Harry, another apprentice, who was studying under a Master, both of them in Hong Kong, but the apprentice never came on, as he would only gain his own laptop when he was a Master himself.

As well as the Chinese Master, there was another Master in Seattle, a witch, who was only too willing to help out with spells or research should anyone need it. There had been, she also said, another apprentice in France, but she knew that he had planned to tell his family about Techno-Magic, and then had never heard from him again.

Harry guessed that the laptop he was on had belonged to this previous apprentice, but kept quiet about it.

He noted her e-mail address if he wanted to contact her when she wasn't online, but she had to leave thirty minutes later, so they said a hasty goodbye before she went. Harry himself was interrupted a moment later.

---

An owl had arrived, from Hermione by the look of it - a Great-Horned owl - which meant she'd finally found the perfect bird. The letter excitedly informed him of something she'd only just learned; several Bulgarian students were transferring to Hogwarts for a year, for a project for their Culture classes. '_This will be an invaluable experience to learn from them, as they learn from us!_' wrote Hermione enthusiastically. '_And as Prefect, if any are sorted into Gryffindor, I'll have plenty of time around them to ask questions._'

Harry didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed by this recent information, but eventually decided to remain neutral on the subject. After all, he'd jump at the chance to go to another country, so why be a hypocrite?

Harry wrote a quick reply and attached it to the owl's leg, which reminded him of another letter he had to write. When Hermione's owl had left, Harry took another piece of parchment and composed an invitation to the Quidditch game. He opened Hedwig's cage and tied the letter to her leg, telling her who it was for.

"Go as quickly as you can, so Uncle Vernon doesn't know you've gone ." Harry told her quietly and watched her leave, with a flutter of feathers. He left the window open so she could return, and started reading The Ultimate Dictionary of Quidditch while he waited for a reply.

---

Hedwig didn't return that night, and not in the morning, either. Harry had to be content with finishing his book, and beginning Ancient Bulgarian Magic; The Gift from the Heavens. Dudley however, provided an unexpected interruption to his reading. Harry was too absorbed in chapter three - the Bulgarian's theories of magic - to hear the large boy's footsteps racing up the stairs. This perhaps shows how interesting the book was; for it would take a lot to miss the sound of Dudley's footsteps. There was no 'large', or 'overweight': Dudley was just plain fat.

Harry did, however, notice when Dudley flung open his bedroom door. "Have you seen my -" he began, and then stopped. Harry knew it wasn't because he was reading a magic book; as he'd had Vernon's permission to do his homework, he could just say it was research. Wondering what his cousin was staring at, Harry followed his gaze to the bottom of his bed, where the laptop lay.

"Did you _steal_ that?" Dudley gasped, not able to take his eyes off the sleek, brilliant machine.

"No," said Harry honestly. "It's a... magic laptop." Well, it _was_ the truth. Dudley seemed amazed by this idea.

"Magic?" he asked, a little fearfully. Then his eyes brightened as he turned to the device of his interest, once more. "You mean it runs on magic instead of electricity? Cool! Does it have any games?"

Harry blinked. This wasn't quite the reaction he had been expecting. "No games." he admitted, "But it's still really good. It's got the Internet, access to loads of information - Magical and non-Magical, and you can put floppy-disks or CDs in, so I suppose you could have games. And," he remembered, "it has unlimited space."

Dudley was one step away from salivating now. "Could I have it?" he barked joyfully. "I'll pay you -" he root around in his huge jeans pockets for a moment, finally bringing out some crumpled notes, "sixty quid?"

Harry knew what would happen if he refused. Dudley would yell to his parents, and Harry would be forced to hand it over; Dudley wouldn't even be able to use it, and Harry would lose the chance of ever becoming a Techno-Mage. That was the moment he realised that whatever happened - he _did_ want to be one, no hesitation.

"You can only use it if you're a Wizard." Harry lied. "Sorry."

Dudley's face fell, but even he was smart enough to understand that getting angry or stealing it wasn't going to make it work. "Maybe I can rig something up." Harry suggested, before he could stop himself as he saw his cousin's pitiable expression. "I'm not promising anything, but I could try."

"Thanks!" cried Dudley excitedly, finally tearing his eyes away from it. "Have you seen my new CD?"

"On the sofa." Harry told him, and Dudley raced out of the room without thanking him; otherwise, Harry was astounded by his manners. He seemed almost amiable! Harry shook his head in amusement. Enough of that - at least he hadn't noticed Hedwig was missing, and used it as blackmail against Harry. He returned to his book.

---

Hedwig arrived back at about seven in the evening, after Harry had done the washing-up and drying and headed back upstairs. She had a reply attached, and when Harry took it off her, she hooted thankfully and flapped back into her cage, where she gulped down some water and settled down to rest whilst Harry read the letter.

Dear Harry,

Thanks for the invitation! You have no idea how great it was to get something like that right out of the blue. I should really back-track a bit here, and say 'happy birthday', so happy birthday. I know it's late, but I didn't think you were particularly interested in hearing from me.

I'm not doing anything on the twenty-eighth, and I'd love to come - the Magpies are my favourite team though, so I'm afraid I'd be cheering a different name to you and Ron. Gran's already said I can go, so if you still want to come, I'll meet you outside the stadium. Thanks again, and goodbye.

Happy holidays!

Neville

Harry put the letter aside, pleased that Neville could come, and started up the laptop, heading over to the technology section of Learnings. He paused at the 'creating AI life-forms', and finally chose to enter it. He didn't expect to actually create anything, but it did seem interesting. Harry quickly found that it was every bit as hard as he had expected it would be; the use of magical materials, the imbuing of intelligence and sentience - and there were many different types as well. Human-like ones, capable of not just mimicking thoughts and emotions, but actually thinking and feeling, which were nicknamed androids - ones with no bodies, which spoke and thought from computers - animal shaped ones, which could act as servants - incorporeal ones which looked like ghosts - so many, and all of them able to be constructed through a mix of magic and technology.

There was one section that caught Harry's eye; Creating Familiars. Remembering the book Ginny gave him, Harry fished it out from the chest and scanned through the introduction. Familiars, it said, were creatures that could act as a store or battery for magic. They could be any type of creature, but it was rare for a wizard to get one, for there were so few that had the right power. If found, the beast could be Bound to the master, and would be a servant.

The wizard could store their magic in the animal, to take out when needed, and any magic that hit the Familiar would have no effect; instead the magic used would be assimilated into the creature for the master to use at will.

The master could use the Familiar as a 'battery', for they would recharge their magic faster when the Familiar was near, and they could possess the creature's body at their desire. If the master died, the Familiar would too, and if the Familiar died, the master would stay alive, but with part of his soul missing, until they Bound another Familiar.

Closing the book, Harry returned to the laptop. The creation and binding were combined in the ritual Harry read of, and seemed quite simple - only involving a long incantation and a pentacle ritual.

There was a major advantage to this type of Familiar; rather than a stupid animal, it would be intelligent, as shown by the heading 'Creating AI Life-Forms'. It would have to be done in Hogwarts though, if it were to be done at all - Harry wasn't allowed to perform magic outside of school, and even if he was, he wouldn't be able to get the ingredients from the Muggle world. Confident of himself, Harry planned to perform his first Techno-Magic spell as a test for himself, and then go through the proper apprenticeship plan in the 'Miscellaneous' section.

He was so smug, he didn't even realise that he was making a complete and utter bloody mess of the system.

---

Time passed quickly, and before long Harry had Vernon's permission for another trip with Ron, and on August the twenty-eighth they were taken by a Portkey prepared by Mr Weasley to the grounds outside the stadium, where they met with Neville, who had arrived ten minutes early.

Chatting about the future of the European League, the trio made their way to their seats where settled down and waited for the game. Neville, although a supporter of the Magpies, was sitting with Harry and Ron, as the tickets booked were next to each other. They had not long to wait, before the commentator announced the match and players. As he named each one, a person swooped out of their teams' respective tunnel, waving and grinning at the crowd. The Magpies' brooms had downward curving spikes, like beaks, on the front of their brooms, Harry noted.

After them was announced the referee, and the two teams' mascots; Monty, a rather plump, quite ordinary looking magpie who perched on the scoreboard much to the crowd's amusement, and Trix - one of the few tame Unicorns, mascot of the Cannons, who trotted out proudly wearing a rug with the Cannons' symbol on it.

Now was the part that the audience had come to see; the match. As soon as the whistle was blown, each player shot away to their positions, a Chaser from each team making for the Quaffle, while the other Chasers stayed a little way off, ready for it to be passed to them. The Cannon Chaser had the ball snatched by his opposing number, who tossed it swiftly to another. The Magpies made their way up the pitch, passing the ball from player to player, always one step ahead of the Cannons. Finally, the Magpies threw the Quaffle through one of the hoops, eliciting cheers and groans from the crowd.

Now the Cannons had got the ball, swiftly tossing it up down to the other end. A Beater hit a Bludger towards them, but the Chasers dodged it, letting their own Beaters come and hit it back.

The other Chasers were hot on their opponent's tails, and one, with a loud whoop, finally managed to intercept the Quaffle, but before she managed to managed to pass it again, another Bludger slammed into the back of her broom, shattering the twigs from the handle and sending the player falling down screaming, finally landing with a loud 'crack' on the hard ground. Medi-Wizards rushed out, and the audience gasped.

The referee (Ernest Edaffle, Harry remembered distantly) tossed the Quaffle back into the air without so much as a second glance at the injured member, and play resumed, the Magpies a Chaser down.

The Magpies were first to grab the Quaffle, and instantly started for the hoops; but their patterns were predictable now that they only had one other person to throw to, and they had less tactics to employ.

They were almost to the goal, before a Cannon flew in on a polished Firebolt, and casually whisked the ball out of the other Chaser's hands. The Magpie fans booed, but it wasn't against the rules, so there was no penalty. Dodging a Bludger hit at him, the Chaser performed a reverse pass; tossing the Quaffle over his shoulder for a Chaser behind him to catch. It was a hard move to pull off, but it worked, and the ball worked its way to the opposite end, where the Keeper was no match for the speed it was put through. Three minutes into the game, and already the score was 10-10, with one of the players down.

The Cannons managed to get it into the goal one more time before the Keeper beat it away to the Magpies with his broom-tail, who instantly turned and threw it up the end of the pitch.

Twenty-seven minutes later came a break, the score being 100-30 to the Cannons, who were employing brand-new tactics that pushed the boundaries of the rules, but never overstepped the boundaries completely.

The Magpie Chaser was back on for the second part, looking a little shaky, but fully healed, and giving a reassuring grin to the crowd as she mounted a new broom. The whistle blew again, and they were off.

The Magpies, filled with morale by this player comeback, scored another goal within the first minute, but the Cannons had other ideas. Spurred on by adrenaline, they snatched the Quaffle away and proceeded to score three more times, effectively wiping out the Magpies _esprit de corps_. The next ten minutes were mainly the two teams sizing each other up, working out their tactics, and trying to wear each other down, and only a few goals were scored. The next nineteen minutes were played fast and hard, using all stored energy.

The Bludgers were furiously hit towards opposing team members, giving one of the Cannons' Beaters a fractured skull, and sent him making an emergency crash landing on the grass to be healed.

There was a blend of formations, dodging, weaving, and a few Transylvanian Tackles pulled off, and eventually the score was 250-90, with no sign of the Snitch. There was a few minutes of relative peace as the players caught their collective breath, before they continued play. The crowd cheered and groaned as the Cannons added another well-aimed goal to their collection, and the, another few minutes in, when the Magpies had managed to score once more, the Snitch was seen. A member of crowd suddenly leapt up from his seat, yelling and pointing.

Everyone turned away from watching the match; and there it was, hovering in the centre of the pitch.

The Golden Snitch.

The Seekers, each at opposite ends, pulled into a dive and shot forwards, teeth gritted and hands outstretched to capture it. It quivered, darting to and fro around the same spot, directly in the centre of the pitch.

Suddenly, Harry realised what was going to happen; by the time the Seekers were there, the Snitch would have moved again - but they wouldn't be able to slow down. They were going to crash directly into each other, fifty feet up in mid-air! A few others had already worked this out and were crying for them to stop, while the Medi-Wizards prepared a pair of stretchers. The Seekers were concentrating too hard to see each other though, and each hurtled towards each other and the Snitch. Five metres - three metres - one metre -

**:CRUNCH:**

The mid-air collision had happened, the Snitch having darted away out of sight just a second before, and the two players, their brooms shattered - and probably their bones, too - toppled down in a mass of limbs and broken wood to the same ground that had a little earlier received a Chaser. The Cannons Seeker hit the ground with a sickening crack, and was either unconscious or dead; while the Magpie Seeker sat up a little dazedly, stuck what appeared to be the top of his broomstick in the ground, and the collapsed in a dead faint.

The broom was still pointing up however, and there, skewered through the beak-shape sitting on the top, was the Golden Snitch, wings fluttering weakly. The score was 250-250.

It all came down to penalties now, the commentator announced excitedly as the men were declared alive, and taken away to St Mungoes, where they be healed better. Whoever missed one goal, the other team would win.

First was the Magpies, who had scored last. The selected Chaser perched on her broom thirty metres away from the hoops, a long distance to throw and aim the ball - especially with the opposing Keeper flying in front.

After twenty seconds of deliberation and planning, she tossed it with all her energy, faking a throw left and then aiming right, sending the Keeper flying for the wrong goal. The ball went through, putting the Magpies in the lead. If the Cannons got the next penalty, then it would continue 'til one lost; otherwise, the Magpies won.

As the Chaser positioned himself and flexed his hand, tensing and un-tensing the muscles, Harry was interrupted by a loud squawk in front of his stand. Monty, the Magpies' mascot, was flapping his way towards the trio, happily cawing in the excitement. Harry and Ron ducked aside, Neville sitting too far away to be a target anyway, and the bird hurtled past them and settled by a witch, who appeared to be asleep.

As it touched her, she gently reached out to it, eyes still closed, and smoothly plucked a feather from it. Monty cawed in shock and shook himself, a few more loose feathers fluttering out of his back (a white one landed in Harry's lap, which he put in his pocket; a spur of the moment reaction) before heading as fast as he could away from the witch (but why had it come over in the first place?), who pocketed her own feather that she had taken, and opened her eyes, smiling at Harry.

Her hair was light brown, coming down to the bottom of her neck in small, tight, clustered curls, and her face was not stunning, but quite pretty; she appeared to be in her early-thirties, and was wearing a white robe with embroidered gold roses on it. It was her eyes that startled Harry; pure black, but for tiny specks of golden-white light in them, as if stars on a dark night. And was that his imagination, or did he see a tiny_ comet_ go through them?

He flashed a quick, nervous smile back at her, before turning back to Ron quickly. "Ron," he hissed, "do it casually, but look at that woman behind us." He fixed his eyes firmly on the second batch of penalties, not really seeing them, while Ron paused a few moments and then glanced round the stadium before looking backwards, as if he were just scanning the crowd.

"What woman?" he asked, turning back to Harry in puzzlement. Harry's head shot round, as he almost stood up - somehow, in the few seconds, the woman had vanished without a trace, only the feathers remaining. "She was there!" Harry insisted defiantly, "She took a feather from Monty, when he flew over."

Ron looked even more puzzled. "What do you mean? Monty's been perched on the scoreboard the entire game -how could he be over here?"

Harry's mouth fell open in shock. "But - but you dodged aside!" he gasped, "You saw him!" He looked back again towards the feathers, planning to show them as evidence; but now the empty seat behind him, and the floor in front of it, were devoid of any feathers. Harry immediately reached for his robes pocket, and felt a warm, fur-like object inside, thin, but long and wide. "Never mind, Ron." Harry said loudly, "Must have been my imagination."

And with that, he turned back to the game and watched the Cannons miss their next penalty, making the Magpies the winners of the match by ten points.

---

Kings Cross Station was, of course, always packed with Muggles; but on the first of September, it was crowded by Muggles _and_ Wizards alike. Harry was always pleased to go back to Hogwarts, and this year more than ever; not only did he feel it was the safest place to be with Voldemort risen again, but it was somewhere that he could be with his friends - and somewhere that he could start his training as a Techno-Mage, and try out the Familiar making ritual, now that he'd memorised the incantation.

His glasses were still on; he'd used the eye-correcting potion the night before, but it would take a few days before any effects were 'seen', if you'll excuse the pun.

"Harry! Harry, over here!" Ron yelled, standing in front of the secret entrance to Platform 9 and ¾. Harry rolled his eyes. Where else would he go? Platform two? Shaking the sarcastic thoughts from his mind, Harry raced over to his friend, glad to be going back to school. "Hermione's already on the Prefect compartment." Ron scowled as Harry stopped by him. "They have to be on it ten minutes earlier than everyone else. I went to the platform twenty minutes ago, but since Hermione had to leave, I thought I'd catch you outside."

Harry looked at his new watch. "It'll leave in a minute," he told him cheerfully, "We'd best go now."

On the train, they greeted each other properly, Ron still a little sullen at Hermione's disappearance. Hedwig and Pig were put by the compartment door, so that Harry and Ron could have a good view out of the window. They discussed Quidditch and OWLs for the most part, welcoming Neville when he came by looking for a spare seat.

Neville definitely wasn't a replacement for Hermione - his personality and opinions were quite different from hers - but he was also different to how Harry had thought he was. Now that Neville was closer to them, having been invited away with them, he was less awkward, and even showed a developed sense of humour (although he did tend to compare things to plants whenever he felt he wasn't saying enough, which Harry found amusing at best, and irritating at the worst).

Harry, after a discussion on the difference between Wizarding and Muggle devices, suddenly remembered a question he wanted to ask. "Neville," he queried, reaching into his pocket and taking out the clear, tiny orb, "Do you know what this is?" He held the ball out for Neville to inspect. "Yes." he replied, to Harry and Ron's interest and surprise. Neville explained. "I like to read stuff about Aurors - 'cause my parents were Aurors, you see - and these were mentioned in one of the books I'm reading, along with a picture of them. They're used when a prospective Auror first applies. It's a Charmometer."

Ron's eyes lit up. "A Charmometer!" he breathed loudly. "Wow!"

"That's very nice," Harry said dryly, "but would someone mind explaining what it is to _me_?"

"It's a magical device." Ron informed him. "If you hold it and say the right spell, it can measure your magic level. It can't tell you the exact number - you need a Magimeter for that, and they're only used by the Ministry - but it'll give you a basic idea. Neville, do you know the charm?"

"_Appareo spiritus numero_." Neville replied instantly. He flushed as the others' amazement cranked up a notch. "I find it easier to remember the longer incantations than the short ones." he admitted. "Just hold it and say it; I think I have the book somewhere in my robes." While Harry recited the spell in his head, Neville finally flicked to the right page in '_Auror Testing and Training_'.

"There are eleven levels of magic," Neville read aloud. "The average level for magic-users is Wizard, or Witch for females, so the magical population is generally called so. Wizard or Witch level is a magic score of three-hundred to three-hundred and ninety-nine points. Muggles or Squibs have nought to ninety-nine, Conjurors, a hundred to a hundred and ninety-nine.

"Apprentices have two-hundred to two-hundred and ninety nine. Above the Wizard or Witch, the Magician has four-hundred to four-hundred and ninety-nine, the Illusionist has five-hundred to five-hundred and ninety-nine, and the Enchanter has six-hundred to six-hundred and ninety-nine.

"The Sorcerer or Sorceress has power in the seven-hundreds; the Mugwump in the eight-hundreds; the Mage in the nine-hundreds; the High-Mage in the thousands; and finally the Arch-Mage in the two-thousand plus."

Ron frowned. "So how do we know what we are?"

"There's a colour scheme." explained Neville, obviously proud to be taking the lead in something. "I'll translate your own colour, instead of going through the list. Do you want to try?"

Harry shrugged his acceptance, and passed the ball to Ron. "You first." he offered. Ron took it. "Appareo spiritus numero." he said loudly, and they watched. The Charmometer turned a pale white; then brilliant white; silver; and finally a medium grey. "Wizard." Neville announced. He took it next, the Charmometer going back to normal as it left Ron, and said the words. It changed to a pale white; then brilliant white; and finally stayed on silver. "Apprentice." sighed Neville mournfully. "Your turn, Harry."

Harry took the now clear-again orb and said, "_Appareo spiritus numero_." The Charmometer went through the usual colours, and stopped at medium grey. "Wizard again." Neville said. "The average power level." At this, Harry felt slightly disappointed, and slightly relieved. On the one hand, he was the Boy-Who-Lived, who was probably going to have to fight Voldemort. Shouldn't he be a bit stronger if he were to stand a chance? On the other hand, he was finally something normal. Rita Skeeter couldn't accuse him of any abnormalities, there would be no camera flashes in his direction (not over this, anyway), and there would be no more power-hungry loons after him.

They finished the ride with the changing of the subject to what they planned to get in Hogsmeade, played a few games of Exploding Snap, and changed into the uniform. Finally, Harry knew, he was home.

---

Hermione met Harry and Ron in the Great Hall, Neville having drifted over to compare Herbology ideas with one of the Gryffindor fourth years. She flung her arms around first Harry, and then Ron, exclaiming her delight at seeing them both and proudly pointing out her shining, red and gold Prefect badge.

They talked for a while, until the doors banged open and Professor McGonagall strode in, followed by a mob of gawking first-years... and eleven or twelve boys and girls who looked about sixteen.

"The Bulgarian transfers." Harry reminded them, and Ron beamed. "Krum's not there!" he said happily.

"No, he doesn't take Magical Culture classes," Hermione replied, but Ron wasn't listening. While McGonagall explained what would happen, and Flitwick brought the Sorting Hat out, Harry counted the Bulgarian students. There were only ten of them, in fact; four girls and six boys. Most of them were ordinary looking, glancing about the room at the students, the ceiling, the staff, looking as though they felt a little out of place in their plain black cloaks that were so different from their Durmstrang ones.

The first years seemed more inquisitive, some of them being Muggle-borns, and they watched in wonder as the Sorting Hat opened its 'mouth' and began to sing.

_"I know what you're thinking,  
When you're standing there like that -  
How can such an important matter,  
Be trusted to a hat?  
You're wondering how some headwear  
Can tell you where you ought to be;  
I'll say there's one headwear that can,  
And that special hat is me.  
I'll take a look inside your mind,  
And choose one of houses four;  
Each one with its own merits,  
Such as Ravenclaw!  
To there go the fast to learn,  
Quick of wit, smart and wise,  
Next comes cunning Slytherin,  
Sly, aspiring, lord of disguise.  
Hufflepuff is next in line,  
Full of loyalty and dedication;  
Hard-working and trustworthy,  
They never act above their station.  
Gryffindor comes last,  
But certainly not least,  
Honour, bravery and valour -  
Here, they've never ceased.  
So all you have to do,  
To find out who you really are;  
Is perch me now atop your head,  
And I'll help you go far."_

The students and staff applauded the hat, the first years clapping the loudest. McGonagall rolled out the yearly scroll and read the names off. "Archer, Bethany."

A short girl with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and slightly tanned skin trotted up and sat down on the stool, placing the Sorting Hat on her head. After a moment of deliberation, the hat called, "Hufflepuff!"

'Castree, Michael' was next, sorted into Gryffindor. When finally all the first years had been sorted, Dumbledore rose to speak. "This year, he announced to the students, "we will be playing host to ten Durmstrang students, as they study here for their Magical Culture classes - one that I'm afraid we don't teach at Hogwarts." He smiled at this and looked around the room. "I hope you will treat them as you treat each other - and I look to the Prefects, and the new Head Boy and Girl to make sure that they, along with other new and old students, are comfortable here. So now, let the second Sorting - begin!"

The students clapped enthusiastically, and McGonagall brought out another, smaller scroll. "Kurkaer, Georgoff." she declared. Georgoff was a tall, gangly boy, with drooping eyes - probably thanks to lack of sleep because of the time difference, Harry noticed. Georgoff came out to the centre and put the hat on. After a few seconds, it cried out its choice; "Ravenclaw!" The boy left for the table, still looking half-asleep.

'Kurkaer, Taialser' became a Slytherin, along with 'Liastam, Derngatt'. 'Nikastal, Natasha' became a Hufflepuff, while 'Nikastal, Leone' became a Gryffindor. 'Gregor, Ivan' and 'Tachov, Boris' became Slytherins as well; then 'Readenheim, Essorogrich' and 'Valia, Mosten' became Ravenclaws.

The final person was a girl, who looked about fifteen, her eyes were closed as her name was called; her hair was light-brown, in tight, small, clustered curls, and her skin was pale. She was not stunning, but she _was_ quite pretty, and she stood a little shorter than the others. She looked about sixteen, and stood with her head slightly lowered, eyes gently shut, lips pursed, and hands clasped in front of her.

As her name was called - Diana Genevieve - her head raised slightly and her eyes slowly flickered half-open.

They were pure black, with hints of golden-white stars in them, and a sharp cruelty showed as one side of her mouth edged up in a sharp smile that had nothing to do with happiness.


	3. Chapter 3: Fire

Chapter 3: Fire

---

"In Life's name, and for Life's sake..." - The Book of Night with Moon

---

Harry gasped in shock and realisation as he recognised the girl. She stalked forwards, a predator, towards the hat, where she sat elegantly upon the stool and placed the hat on her head.

'_Slytherin,_' thought Harry. '_No question about it_.'

The hat took a full minute to decide, and it was obvious by Genevieve's distant eyes that they were talking to each other. Finally though, a decision was made. The Sorting Hat opened its brim wide and yelled, "Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindors clapped loudly, except for Harry; Ron nudged him as the girl approached their table, and whispered, "Funny eyes, eh mate? And that definitely isn't a Bulgarian name."

Harry made a noise of agreement, without really listening to what Ron was saying. That girl; Diana Genevieve; there was no way he trusted her. Unless it was her mother, she'd been the one at the Quidditch game - the woman who'd taken the magpie's feather. But why had she come here, and why in disguise?

He was brought back to reality by Dumbledore's voice. "Due to circumstances, Professor Grubbly-Planks will be returning to teach Care of Magical Creatures for the first term; and also joining us is Arabella Figg, who will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts." He paused to gaze around the room. "Quidditch will be on this year, at the usual time; the Forbidden Forest is still forbidden; and I believe there are a host of items on the forbidden list, including _all_ the items produced under the title of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes."

Fred and George burst into fake tears at this, much to everyone's amusement (excluding Snape, Filch, the Slytherins, and the Bulgarians - who didn't know about the twins' endeavours of mischief).

"And finally, I have just two more words to say..." the headmaster announced. "Eat up!"

As soon as the bowls and plates of food appeared on the table, the students rushed to fill their stomachs. Harry, however, listened closely to what Genevieve was saying when questioned by the other, curious students.

"Are you staying for the whole year, then?" asked Seamus Finnigan, his mouth stuffed full of chicken a moment later. Genevieve laughed. "I'm afraid not," she said in perfect English. "Whereas my classmates are, I will be returning home in a fortnight. I am taking only temporary leave, rather than extended leave."

A few unimportant questions showed only that she would be in fifth year, and that she was an only child. A few minutes later, someone finally asked a valid question. "Are you British?" queried Dean Thomas. "You don't look Bulgarian, and your name and accent certainly aren't." Genevieve answered the question without a moments hesitation. "My parents were from London." she answered. "They moved away to Bulgaria, taking me with them."

When asked about her eyes, Genevieve simply laughed. "A spell gone wrong." she said, and no more.

---

The next morning at breakfast, the timetables were passed out, and Harry was interested to see that the first lesson was 'Divin./Mag-Lang.', which meant that as he was taking Magical Languages, he would only be having Divination twice a week instead of thrice. "Are you taking the optional class?" Hermione asked him, and Harry nodded. "Good," she said, pleased. "Ron isn't, and I was worried I'd be the only one of us."

It turned out that they weren't the only ones; two Ravenclaws, and Draco Malfoy had also deigned themselves acceptable to the class, which was taught by a teacher Harry didn't know; Professor Clayton, a stern but friendly man who had worked at Hogwarts for the past decade or so.

The first lesson was quite simple; they didn't learn anything, but had an introduction to the three languages they would learn - Mermish, the language of the Merpeople; Telepathy, a mind communication through the sending of mental images; and Phoex, the language of the Phoenixes.

"Wizards and Witches have a faster and better memory with languages than Muggles." the teacher explained, answering Harry's unspoken question of how they were to learn two languages and one semi-language in a year.

"We magic-users originally even had our own language from Atlantis, a few thousand years ago, written in Sorcerous Runes - not to be confused with normal runes." Clayton said proudly, as Harry shifted his necklace back into place, from where it had been slipping. It felt strangely warm. "The Atlantean language has over four-hundred symbols, and in the days when illiteracy was common, it was an amazing skill to be able to read them or speak the words; now, the understanding has been lost forever, since Atlantis sank. But I'm not here to teach you about that! I'm to teach you about the three languages on the curriculum." And with that, he continued into his introduction to the subject, and how quickly he expected them to progress in their learning.

Harry and Hermione left the lesson feeling pleased and confident.

---

Deep under the Atlantic Ocean, surrounded by the pillars of an ancient courtyard belonging to a long destroyed palace, fish with eyes used to the never-ending black of the murky waters swam and looked for food and mates. In the centre of the courtyard, a raised slab, on what looked like some kind of burial tomb, cracked slightly.

The slab was made of stone, several inches thick, and perfectly smooth and plain - another crack appeared, started from the underneath. The fish swam a little further away, unsure of the self-destroying slab.

And suddenly, a fist slammed up through the inches thick rock, shattering it and allowing it to crumble to pieces of tiny stone, which was swept away by the water as it rushed in to fill the now open tomb. Apparently unaffected by the pressure which should have killed even a whale at this depth, and the total lack of air, a short, skinny girl with tanned skin, long red hair, and strange golden eyes sat up, frowning at her fist that she'd smashed her way to freedom with. "Damn," she said, a large bubble issuing forth from her mouth. "I think I broke a nail."

---

Defence Against the Dark Arts was next after the short break, and Harry was sure that Professor Figg was familiar from _somewhere_. She had short, dark brown hair, and blue eyes, and seemed to be in her late thirties; but Harry was certain he'd met her before. She didn't show any signs of recognising him though, so he ignored it.

"For the next week, we'll be studying daemons." she announced once everyone had settled down, earning more than a few stares and cries of alarm - and a few blank looks from Harry and some Muggle-borns.

"Since I couldn't find any good books on daemons," Figg continued, pretending she'd never heard the students, "I'll be teaching you what I know about them myself. Now, what is a daemon? Anyone?"

Hermione's hand shot up, along with a few others'. "A daemon," she said when Professor Figg nodded towards her, "is an intelligent non-human, whose extreme magical powers are solely Dark. They're usually humanoid and black, with bat-like wings, and take pleasure in death and pain. There are various types though, and while no-one knows where they come from, they can be Summoned to do their caller's bidding, or banished to wherever the came from. There's rumours that Unspeakables banish daemons, though it isn't proved."

Figg nodded, pleased. "Excellent answer, Miss Granger. Twenty points to Gryffindor. Now, there are about sixteen types of daemon, but I'm going to focus on four of them in particular. The first is the most common one, which as Hermione described is black and humanoid with bat-like wings. This is called the Volucris Daemon, and is the one most often Summoned. They have high magical power - if you assume the average of Wizards is in the three-hundreds, a Volucris is usually in the six-hundreds. However, this can only be used to hurt, and they can't heal or Apparate. However, their magic _is_ wandless, and they instinctively know where each species' weak points are."

Harry listened in fascination, taking down notes on wing-spans, food, ages, the types of cries it made, the young it had; how they could be banished using a complicated ritual, which took years to master; what magic they used, and how they could be detected. The whole class was disappointed by the time the bell rang for lunch, and Professor Figg dismissed them, telling them that they'd be continuing learning about Volucris Daemons next lesson.

"And the lesson after that," she smirked, "I have something pretty special planned."

---

The girl, who looked to be about seventeen, was shooting directly up through the water, kicking her legs furiously and bringing her arms up and down with incredible force. Her face was lifted determinedly to the air above her, away from the ruins of the city of Atlantis. Fish scattered as she hurtled past them, the water becoming clearer and more lit as she went further up, closer to the light of the Sun.

Her clothes; a long red robe, tied with brown cord round the waist, and brown boots; were soaking, her flowing hair was floating quite happily now, but would be stuck limply to her face when it was out of the water.

Yet still, she showed no sign of tiring, no need to take any breaths of air, no fear of dying here; in fact she seemed quite content to be swimming upwards from thousands of metres below sea level. At the speed she was going, she took only a few more minutes to finally splash to the top, her head in the fresh sea air.

Her hair, just as expected, was sticking to her face, and she pushed it out of her eyes. There were no ships, nor any land nearby, much to her obvious disappointment, so she closed her eyes for a second and concentrated.

A violet glow surrounded her, with black shapes like runes moving around it. The violet aura shifted in shape and size every few milliseconds, curling out and straightening at the edges - though it was only there a couple of seconds, before the girl and the glow flickered and disappeared. By a small, run-down cottage in the middle of Thetford Forest, a girl and a purple, rune-filled glow silently appeared out of no-where.

---

"Figg was _brilliant_." Ron declared to all the Gryffindors that lunch. "Wasn't she?"

"She's almost as good as Lupin." Harry agreed, and the other fifth-years who had been to her class nodded their approval of her. "The lesson was amazing." resolved Hermione happily. "I was a bit worried, seeing as how we've had usually had our teachers turn out to be unsuitable - but I think we've finally got a good teacher!"

Harry decided not to comment that he still thought Lupin would be better, and finished his food.

"I have to go and sort out a few things." he told his friends, getting up. "See you in Charms!"

Ron and Hermione nodded a goodbye as he left the Hall and made his way to the dormitory. No-one was in there, so he loaded his laptop and copied down the notes of the ingredients he would need for the Familiar ritual.

Three yellow candles; three brown candles; a gram of violet; a gram of cloves; a gram of coltsfoot; half a gram of sage wisdom; two grams of rosemary; a piece of black chalk; a string of red ribbon and a piece of the animal type. All of which could probably be bought in Hogsmeade, whenever they chose to go. If Ron and Hermione didn't want to visit the village, he'd have to do it by himself - although that was probably best anyway, so they didn't ask questions about what he was buying...

Harry frowned. Yes, that was probably the best way to do it. Shake the two of them off him for a while and get the ingredients from Hogsmeade on his own. His mind made up, Harry set about choosing the date for his trip.

---

"Subject FB/P/26H is nearly ready, Sir Abyssay." Tom announced, smiling proudly. "My army is ready and willing to die for the Cause, and protect the people. Your orders, Sir?"

Sir Abyssay lit a new cigar - slim, short, and costing more than the average person would make in a week - and took a breath of it, holding it with gloves that were whiter than seemed possible. "Good. How much longer?"

"A year at most. The Test will be before the end of the year - if all goes to plan, I won't be around to comment on its success. If I am around, I'll have to comment on its failure." Tom stopped grinning when he saw Sir Abyssay wasn't in the least bit amused. "I would prefer it, Commander," spoke the aforementioned leader coldly, "if you would crack the jokes _outside_ work hours." The voice was that of the upper-class English; clipped and sharp.

"I see from the latest report that his reflexes need to be improved. Get Malfoy off, and find someone else; someone more challenging, so he'll practice a bit more. And increase his duelling training; he's going to need it."

"Lucius won't like it." Tom warned, but at a glare from Sir Abyssay, he shut up. "Yes, Sir." he acknowledged.

---

Lessons over the next two days continued as normal. Genevieve didn't try to kill anyone, and Harry had to admit he was starting to feel a bit stupid for suspecting her of anything; all she was doing was the same thing the other Bulgarians were doing - asking a few questions about the British Wizarding population, and reading the Daily Prophet eagerly for an understanding of British Wizarding media and politics (most of which involved Fudge denying Voldemort's return, and a distinct lack of Rita Skeeter).

There had been no more Defence classes yet, much to the trios' chagrin, but Harry did have _one_ reason to be cheered up; Hermione was tutoring a second year for that afternoon, and Ron was taking part in an unofficial Gryffindor chess tournament, which meant Harry got a chance to slip away to Hogsmeade.

As a fifth year, Harry was allowed to visit Hogsmeade whenever he wanted, as long as it was out of school hours, and not too late. So at seven o'clock, he found himself entering the sleepy village and scanning the buildings for any shops that looked as though they might sell what he wanted. Being September, it was dark, but there was enough light to see by, and he quickly spotted an apothecary where he could buy the herbs. They were easily taken care of; bought in clear bags with a twist of black cord around the top.

A shop selling all kinds of objects for use in spells sold candles - Harry bought a large set, which included three of each colour; blue, brown, gold, green, orange, pink, purple, silver, white, yellow and black; when the shop-keeper informed him that different coloured candles had different effects, and helped different types of spells, which Harry thought could be useful if he needed candles for any other rituals he wanted to perform in the future.

He was glad that he only needed a length of ribbon and some chalk now; thirty-three candles and five packets, each carrying a hundred grams of herbs, was a lot of carry even _with_ a lightweight charm on them from the helpful shop-keeper - who Harry suspected wouldn't have been quite so helpful if he hadn't have bought over five Galleons worth of candles; over twelve pounds worth of wax and string.

Harry again bought a set of items further down the road - this time a set of chalk in white, silver, black, gold and grey, the box having two sticks of each colour. Again, they affected the spell being cast.

Finally, there was only the ribbon left, which Harry bought for practically nothing in a small gift shop. It was about two feet long, smooth, and crimson. Harry put it into the bag with his herbs, shifted the other bag with the huge box of candles into a more comfortable position, and made his way to The Three Broomsticks to celebrate his victory within an hours worth of shopping. He knew just what animal he wanted to use, and everything was ready.

Ordering a Butterbeer, Harry set his bags down at a corner table, where an abandoned copy of the Daily Prophet lay. Sipping his drink, Harry scanned through the headlines. **Meaghan McCormack; Lack of Pride!** cried the front page, making a bad pun about her playing as Chaser in the Pride of Portree, and her recently discovered steroid addiction. The next pages were just as gossiping and scandal-filled; the only ones it seemed, that weren't, were the entertainment page which announced Celestina Warbeck's latest single ('Magic All Around You') and the sports page, which were offering three to one odds in favour of a Tornadoes victory over the Kestrels.

Harry was about to put it back down, when he heard a voice that he'd made sure to remember; Genevieve's.

He pulled the newspaper back in front of his face, shuffled closer to the corner of the room, and pretended to read, while he listened to what she was saying as she sat down at a table nearby. "I'm telling you," she snapped angrily to someone, "Potter's the one we're after, Natasha. He's got one of the feathers, and he wouldn't have taken it if he wasn't the one. It's him, no matter what Master says, and we're not allowed to do a damned thing."

Harry perked up when he heard his name said, and quickly realised who she was talking to. Natasha; Natasha Nikastal, one of the Bulgarians who had been Sorted into Hufflepuff. She was next to speak, in English tinged with a Bulgarian accent. "Maybe so," she said coolly, "but we can't do anything until Master orders it; and until we've got absolute proof, he won't let us do anything that could endanger our positions."

Harry lowered the paper slightly to get a good look at Natasha. The two girls were sipping Butterbeers, Genevieve looking livid and Nikastal just appearing bored. She had long, straight black hair, which fell to just below her shoulders, and her skin was pale from living in such a cold climate all her life. Her lashes were thick, hanging over icy blue eyes. When not in her 'sweet Hufflepuff' act, she looked cold and threatening. Harry wondered briefly why she hadn't been Sorted into Slytherin, and then lifted the paper back in front of his face.

"Maybe not," growled Genevieve, "so we'd better get some proof as soon as possible. I have a couple of weeks, and when I'm gone, you won't be able to do a thing. Your sister can only cover for you for a while."

"We could do a few tests." Nikastal suggested. "Or we could torture and interrogate Dumbledore - he'd have to know, and then we'd have definite proof of whether it's Potter."

"That would go against the rules." Genevieve grumbled, finishing her drink. "Of course, we could slip a truth potion into his drink, and then question him; and erase his memory, of course - no, that wouldn't work... This would be so much easier if Potter could just meet with an accident!" she finally sighed, and it sounded as though she'd put her empty glass back down on the table top. Nikastal sounded amused.

"I think _that_ would _certainly_ be against the rules, and you'd never manage it anyway - Potter's better protected than Sir Abyssay, and that's saying something."

"Which is exactly _why_ Potter's obviously the one we're looking for!" Diana snapped. "Even if it were a coincidence with the whole 'Boy-Who-Lived'-thing, and things had just gone wrong - or if they arranged that to get us off the trail of the _real_ boy - why would they stick so many powerful wards around him?"

"As they said, to get us off the real one's trail." Nikastal pointed out. "We can't afford to do it wrong, or everyone will see that we played right into their hands. And when _they_ know that _we_ know he's the wrong boy, they'll protect the real one even more."

"But don't you see?" Diana begged imploringly, "Potter _is_ the real one! I know he is!"

Nikastal's empty glass clinked down on the table, and the chairs scraped as they got up. "We need proof, not wild speculations," Natasha hissed, making Harry's blood turn to ice. "If we don't find the right one, you'll be destroyed and I'll be turned down - or worse, I'll be destroyed with you. You may have worked for the cause longer than I have, but I'm seriously starting to doubt your abilities. If we kill the wrong one, we're screwed. Got it?"

There was a stunned silence from Genevieve, and Harry could imagine her scowl of loathing coming back at full force when she got over the shock of this insubordination.

"Let's go." she growled, seemingly unable to find words enough to express herself. With that, she turned and stalked to the door and left, followed by Natasha.

Harry waited a minute to make sure they were gone, then threw down the newspaper, grabbed his purchases and ran out of the pub, heading back to Hogwarts with thoughts of wonder and fear running through his head.

---

After packing the ingredients in his chest, Harry lay back on his bed and stared at the top of four-poster bed. It was completely unbelievable; the girls had made it sound as though they wanted to kill him for something _other_ than being the Boy-Who-Lived - but why? There was nothing else special about him.

And what did they mean, a coincidence? It could hardly have been pre-planned; and how could 'it' have gone wrong? Who was Sir Abyssay? Who was the girls' Master? Voldemort? What rules? And what had the feather he'd taken got to do with anything? Harry groaned it anger at his ignorance, and rolled over. Maybe, he thought suddenly as he was hit by a bolt of inspiration, Maybe it had something to do with the letter his parents had sent him...

Harry opened the first compartment of his trunk from where he lay, and re-read the letter. Special; unique; the words jumped out the page. Harry felt a queasy tingling in his stomach; Diana Genevieve was right - whatever their reason for searching, he was the one they were looking for. Still, as long as Nikastal was unconvinced, he was safe.

"Harry, mate?" Ron's voice interrupted his thoughts, and Harry quickly but casually returned the envelope to the trunk, and locked it, while asking, "What?"

Ron paused for a moment. "Where were you? You've been missing over an hour."

"Hogsmeade." Harry said quickly, and Ron was silent. "Oh," he said finally, although sounding a little suspicious of this reply. They stood staring at each other, uncomfortable and challenging. "Did you get anything?"

"No. Nothing much there."

Another silence that seemed deafeningly loud.

Finally, Ron nodded, seeming to accept this information, and left the room. When he was gone, Harry let out a sigh of relief. First thing in the morning, he would have to tell Dumbledore about Diana and Natasha; the sooner Dumbledore got them out of the school, the better - and perhaps he could get a few explanations while he was there.

---

The next morning, Harry asked Hermione to tell Professor Binns he had gone to the headmaster, and left as soon as possible. Neither of the two asked why he was going; Harry knew they suspected he'd had another dream of Voldemort, one too terrible to speak to them about, or important enough to tell Dumbledore of.

Harry, now keeping a close eye on the two girls, felt their eyes on his back while he left the Great Hall after breakfast, and was relieved to enter the empty, stone corridor. He wasn't so pleased, however, when he reached the headmaster's office and realised he didn't know the password.

"Ah... er... Chocolate Frogs; Fizzing Whizbees; Sherbet lemons; Cockroach Cluster; um... Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans; Ton-Tongue-Toffee; Ice Mice; Sugar Quill; Canary Creams -" The gargoyle slid aside. Harry stared a moment in disbelief at the password, and then gathered himself together and headed up the stairs.

He knocked on the door at the top, and was glad to hear Dumbledore's voice asking him to come in.

"Harry." the headmaster smiled, eyes twinkling in an amused way. "Is there a particular reason for this visit, or have you just stopped by to exchange pleasantries?" He was seated behind his desk, and as Harry had entered, slipped a letter he had been reading away into a drawer. Harry watched curiously as he locked it.

"There's a reason, professor." Harry said, remembering himself. "It's about two of the Bulgarians - Natasha Nikastal and Diana Genevieve. I went out shopping in Hogsmeade yesterday, and they were there."

Dumbledore, if anything, looked even more amused. "I hardly think that's a punishable offence, Harry, so there must be something else. Please continue."

Harry fidgeted nervously and then went on, "Well, I went into The Three Broomsticks, and pretty soon, they came in and started talking. They were saying stuff about looking for a boy, and not knowing who it was - though they suspected me. And they were suggesting stuff like putting a truth potion in your drink to find who it was - and they kept talking about their 'Master', and someone called Sir Abyssay..."

As Harry spoke, Dumbledore's expression grew serious, and his eyes grim. "I see." he said finally. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will make sure Miss Genevieve and Miss Nikastal are taken care of."

Harry couldn't hide an apprehensive shiver at those words. _Taken care of_. Just thinking about how the headmaster said them gave him the chills. "Professor," he plucked up the courage to say, "What were they talking about? And who are they?" he forced out, begging for a reply.

Dumbledore took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly, his face now expressionless. "As to who they were, I suspected nothing more of them than two Bulgarian students; and it is very likely that they are impostors, and the real students are dead. Until they have been questioned, however, I have no idea. As for what they were talking about, come up here after you've finished your lessons for the day, and I will explain everything. Is that all right?"

"Yes. Thank you, Professor." Harry said a little uncertainly. As he opened the door to leave, he suddenly paused and turned back round. "Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Is it - is it anything to do with Voldemort?" For some reason, he didn't think it was, but Dumbledore sighed deeply, as if not knowing how to phrase the answer. "Everything, and nothing, Harry. I'll explain later."

---

All through the History of Magic, break, and Transfiguration lessons, Harry couldn't keep focused. His thoughts were far away from school, and darted around ideas, fantasies and half-formed imaginings of what explanations Dumbledore might give. Perhaps they were spies from Voldemort under Polyjuice, or perhaps they were undercover agents from the Ministry, here to check up on rumours of the 'Dark Lord' Harry Potter!

Or maybe - just maybe - they were part of a secret organisation led by another Dark Lord, who was hoping to become even more powerful than Voldemort! Or they could be thieves, and Dumbledore had taken in another rare object, and they'd come to steal -

"Harry, the bell went over a minute ago." Hermione's voice cut into his reverie, curious and a little worried.

Harry, in shock at this voice coming out of the silence, leapt up and looked around, people had finished packing their bags, and were just leaving the room for lunch. Harry winced at his daydreaming. "Sorry, guys."

"That's okay. You've been acting funny all morning." Ron said cheerfully, but not very tactfully. Hermione shut him up by elbowing him in the ribs, while Harry shoved his stuff into his bag. Ron frowned as he noticed a hold-up at the door. "What's happening?"

Dean, who was staring down the corridor, bemused, replied. "It's Diana. Snape just came by and told her the headmaster wanted to see her. I wonder what's happening?"

Harry's ears had pricked as soon as Dean mentioned Genevieve. "Did he say why?"

"No," Dean answered, and left. Hermione looked at Harry curiously. "Why do you want to know?"

"Since you're such a believer in Divination," Harry said quizzically as they left the room themselves, "Here's a prediction for you. I predict that Genevieve and Nikastal - Natasha Nikastal in Hufflepuff - won't be around by the afternoon. Care to make any bets on that? 'Cause I'm pretty certain I'm on to a winner, here."

Hermione and Ron, thinking that Harry's dream of the previous night showed the girls dying, said nothing.

---

At lunch, Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall were missing for the first twenty minutes. They came in all together, Snape looking nastier than usual, McGonagall with her lips pursed, and Dumbledore with a large smile - probably fake, compared to the other two expressions - plastered over his face.

They took their places behind the staff table, and Dumbledore rapped against his goblet for silence. Once the pupils were paying attention, the headmaster spoke. "Students, I'm afraid I have some bad news. Miss Genevieve has had to cut her visit short, due to an emergency at home, and she has already left. Also, I'm afraid Miss Nikastal; Natasha; was needed, and has left as well. I know it's unfortunate that they did not have time to say goodbye, but I'm afraid it was necessary to get them home as soon as possible.

"After they've finished lunch, I would like it if Leone Nikastal and Draco Malfoy could go to Professor Snape, who will show you to my office. You are not in any trouble. Thank you." With that, Dumbledore sat down, seemingly oblivious to the mutters and whispers that were running around the hall. Two unrelated students had to rush home on the same day, without even saying goodbye? And one of them with a twin not going back? Why?

"Harry, mate? How did you know they weren't coming back?" Ron asked in awe. Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth. "Don't say," she gasped, "that there's been an attack in Bulgaria, and their families are dead!"

Ron scoffed at this. "If their families were dead, they'd have sent Natasha's sister back as well. No, it's obviously something else. So come on, Harry, what is it? And I can understand Leone going up, since her sister's up and left, but why'd Malfoy gone as well?"

"I don't know about Malfoy," Harry admitted honestly, "It might be something completely different. But about the two girls - well, I overheard them talking in Hogsmeade, about them planning to kill m- someone. So I had to tell Dumbledore, and he's probably sent them to the Ministry."

Ron and Hermione's jaws fell open. "You're _joking_!" Ron breathed. "That's why Leone and Malfoy are up there, then; they think they were helping them, but they don't have the proof yet!"

"Ron, that's stupid. Dumbledore said they weren't in trouble. He's probably just going to explain it all to Leone, and - and it's probably about something else with Malfoy." Hermione scowled. "Who did they want to kill?"

Harry hesitated. Well, he'd have to tell them eventually. "Me." he admitted.

The pairs' jaws fell open even wider. "They're Death Eaters!" Ron gasped, and Harry rolled his eyes.

---

After finishing his lunch, Draco Malfoy went over to where Snape and Leone were waiting. He didn't have a clue what was going on - some girls had gone home, so what? It had nothing to do with him.

Still, he followed the Potions teacher to Dumbledore's office, where the headmaster had returned to a few minutes earlier, and crossed his arms impatiently. The headmaster had bid him and Snape wait outside until he finished with Leone, but they speaking too quietly to pick anything up, and he wasn't going to try an eavesdropping charm with Snape watching him. There were probably wards against it anyway, he thought gloomily.

He managed to catch a few things that were particularly loud; Leone's cry that sounded like grief and horror - Dumbledore calming her - some sobbing that eventually quietened down - some angry shouting from Leone ('What am I supposed to do? Does my mother know?') and a reprimand from the headmaster ('She couldn't help it, neither of them could.'). Malfoy had to admit, it didn't much sound like Natasha had just been sent home.

He hid a smirk. Whatever was going on was _big_, and he was going to find out just what was happening.

A few minutes later, Leone left, eyes red and raw from crying, her dark brown hair seeming limp, and Malfoy swaggered into the office.

"Yes, Professor?" he asked coolly, taking a seat before he was asked. Dumbledore gave a smile at this, and unlocked one of his drawers, taking out a letter and passing it to the boy.

Dumbledore, it read,

I do not like this arrangement, but I will have to accept. I hope you will find a suitable replacement for Draco, and that he can continue to play until said replacement be found.

Yours sincerely,

Lucius Malfoy

Draco frowned. It was short, sharp, and to the point, like all of his father's letters. It also had a tone of displeasure around it, which Draco picked up straight away. After all, he was an Empath, and this letter _reeked_ of annoyance, but something else as well; a sort of acceptance, as though it were something he _had_ to do.

"What does he mean?" he asked, reading it through again and focusing on the words instead of the emotions.

"It means - and I apologise for this - that you will not be playing on the Slytherin Quidditch team any longer."

Draco went pale. "For all this year?" he gasped, "Why?"

"I'm afraid I mean that you'll not be playing Quidditch for _all_ the time you're here." Dumbledore said gently, knowing how much this would hurt him. "I am most sorry."

"I can Feel you are, but that doesn't explain it!" Draco snapped, forgetting politeness in his anger. "Why?"

Dumbledore sighed. "It is hard to explain. Please believe me, that - unless..." he paused for a moment, thinking. "It would do more good than harm... and it would happen anyway..." he muttered to himself, and Draco Felt the thoughtfulness, inspiration and excitement rolling off him. Finally, he looked back up, and smiled.

"Come here when your lessons have ended, and I will explain everything."

---

Harry was shocked, when he entered the office after Care of Magical Creatures, to see Draco there as well. On the other hand, Draco was just as shocked to see him. Harry took a seat when Dumbledore offered it; they were now all sitting around his desk, the headmaster gazing gravely at them.

"What you are about to hear," he stated, "is told to _no-one_. Not your friends, not your family, not your teachers. It is not to be recorded in Pensieves, or written in books or on paper. It is not to be taped onto cassettes, or said in your sleep. Do you understand, and promise this?"

Harry's heart beat faster in his excitement, and the two boys nodded eagerly. A strange tension filled the air.

Dumbledore rose and held out his wand - maple, Harry noticed absently, about eleven inches - and told them to touch the tips of their wands to his wands tip. They did so, Harry feeling confused, but Draco seemed to know what was happening. "You'll know the words when you're ready." Dumbledore promised. "This is a type of Fidelius charm. It means that the secrets I will tell you can only be discussed with those who already know of them - whether you know that they know, or not. Understand? Good. Just say what comes into your head."

He cleared his throat. "Do you accept my knowledge and my teaching?"

"I do." Harry and Draco said together immediately.

"Do you accept my discretion, and my privacy?

"I do."

"Will you keep the secret a secret, and hold it only to yourselves and those who know?"

"I will."

"Will you accept the secret as the truth, and not deny me the right to remove the secret from your memory, if I should so desire?"

"I will."

"Then I give you my secret." At these words, the tips of the wands glowed a pale blue, and the three lights merged together, before disappearing. Dumbledore sat back down, and placed his wand atop the desk.

"Nothing is what it seems." he began. Harry remembered the words immediately, from his parents' letter.

"Perhaps," he continued, "I should start ten-thousand years ago, for that is when it began. Please do not interrupt; if you just listen, it will all make sense - or at least," he smiled, "I hope it will.

"Just over ten-thousand years ago, in the year 206 AC, Atlantean time - After Creation, starting from when the city was built - there was a young High Mage named Merlin. This was the man the Arthurian Merlin was named after. He was a Seer, but instead of vague visions, he gave highly detailed prophecies, and was widely respected and admired. He was the palace Seer, and one day a kingdom called Cyrin; a fighting kingdom, which was jealous of the wealth and beauty of Atlantis; declared war.

"The rulers of the Cyrin kingdom were the royal Amarantha family. Their name means 'immortal', for the family had been rulers for hundreds of years without the surname being changed even once. However, the Amarantha king and queen had five sons and daughters, each one highly powerful. After a few months of fighting, the Cyrin kingdom, which wasn't as advanced as Atlantis, began to lose. Terrified at the thought of their first ever defeat, the young princes and princesses found an ancient spell, which required the blood of the parents of the casters. They ritually sacrificed their parents to gain the power to only die through natural causes, so they could fight for a longer time - but the spell would only work on a certain altar, in Atlantis.

"When the five had managed to break silently into the temple, and were about to sacrifice their drugged parents, Merlin suddenly Saw what they were going to do. He grabbed a few guards and ran to the temple to stop them, but he was too late. The rulers of Cyrin were dead, and the five were putting their parents' blood on their faces, to finish the spell. They became immortal, but the guards didn't know this; and as they fought the invaders, the guards were killed.

"Merlin also fought, for he was far more powerful than the average Wizard, and in the battle, he fell against the corpses of the king and queen, and before any of the princes or princesses could stop it, some of their blood went on his forehead. He was immortal, just as they were.

"Knowing that they couldn't win the battle until Merlin, who was older than them, died of natural causes, they fled back to become the rulers of Cyrin. The war continued, but eventually Cyrin gave up, planning to attack once Merlin was dead. However, something had gone wrong. The spell was intended to be used by those who were related to the sacrifices, to make them invincible to unnatural death. But because it was also used by someone unrelated, it made them invincible only to _natural_ death. They could not die of old age, or disease - but they could still be killed by a dagger or arrow.

"This was how it worked for Merlin, as well. After the war ended a few months later, he married the princess of Atlantis, and when the King died, he took his place as a wise and fair ruler. He had a son called Murrough, who was also powerful, though not a Seer. On his death-bed - having been poisoned - Merlin had one final vision.

"Instead of his usual clear ones, this was a poem, which made no sense - or not in Atlantean runes, anyway. He was writing it in modern English, and it was like other prophecies, in that it had to be interpreted. Before anyone could ask him what it meant, however, he passed away.

"When they heard that King Merlin had died of an unnatural cause, the five rulers of Cyrin realised something had happened. They spent over a decade on research, checking what was wrong, worried that they might die, but discovered that were immortal to natural causes. They already knew they hadn't aged, but had assumed that was because of the sacrifice of their parents, making them invincible.

"After their research, they felt brave again, and declared war once more on Atlantis. Now however, they had spent time on researching powerful spells, and Summoned flocks of daemons to sink the entire city into the ocean. Some Atlanteans escaped however, including the queen and Prince Murrough - which, ironically enough, means Sea Warrior. Continuing their life in Britain; no-one is sure of which country in particular; the Prince was raised as a normal boy, for they knew the Cyrin kingdom would kill him and his mother if they knew they hadn't died.

"About three centuries ago, English had got far enough along that Merlin's prophecy could be understood almost completely. It told of a Phoenix - not literally, but someone like one - who had been 'carefully controlled and raised' to fight the Dark. By this time, the immortal siblings were still terrorising the land and sea, though they had grown bored of being rulers, and now just wished to be conquerors. They were often called the Dark, for it seemed that their evil could blot out the Sun, and chill hearts, and anyone who disagreed with them was killed.

"Finally though, the Resistance had a chance. The prophecy told them that someone had a chance of defeating the Dark, having been prepared from centuries ago. At first, an immortal was looked for, but then they realised after trial and error that the prophecy meant it must be prepared right from the start; even the ancestors should be chosen.

"They chose to have selective breeding to produce the most powerful magic-user possible; for even though they could be killed, the Dark was extremely powerful. One of the people who volunteered for the breeding was the powerful descendant of Murrough, son of Merlin. Throughout the centuries, the most powerful magic-users were carefully selected and planned to breed together for power and skill, but something happened. A century ago, one of the Resistance defected, and told the Dark what he knew of the breeding program.

"It wasn't much - he didn't know who the descendant was of the time, or who he or she would be bred with, but he knew of the prophecy, which said when a descendant came that was powerful enough, he could - notice could, not will - defeat the Dark. The Five were immediately terrified. They were still scared of Merlin, and knew his prophecy was real, and started recruiting spies and assassins to hunt down the descendant and kill them.

"This pushed the Resistance further underground, but it still continued.

"Now, each of the Dark had a spell placed on them at birth, in a ritual among the Cyrin royalty, to give them each a power. It was one of the reasons they were so feared. Dagda, the eldest son, was a Telekini, able to move objects with just a thought. Brenna was a Necromancer; able to speak to, bind, control, and raise the dead as slaves. Calhoun was a Multielemental; something extremely rare - a person who could control each one of the thirteen elements, of Fire, Darkness, Earth, Water, Lightning, Plants, Magic, Music, Weather, Air, Light, Celestial, and Void. For this, he was one of the most feared of the Dark, though he didn't have the raw power of Dagda. Melanie was a Possessor, able to Possess bodies of animals, and finally Lucretia was an Auramagi - able to see people's Auras as an area of colour around their bodies.

"All the same, the Phoenix was said to be able to defeat them at the peak of his power, and free the people."

The headmaster leaned back in his chair and gazed at them, looking worn out from such a long speech. Harry and Draco themselves, were speechless. "That's terrible," Harry said finally, after five minutes of quiet, "to just... _breed_ people like that, with no respect for their feelings."

"Not so." said Dumbledore gently. "They weren't forced to, or put under a love spell. The Resistance just made sure that they grew up around a choice of prospective husbands or wives, none of them thinking they were forced into anything. I believe there was only one time the descendant didn't fall in love with any of them, and as she had a twin who was married, it was perfectly acceptable."

"There's something I don't get, here." Draco pointed out. "All this is a very nice story, but you must have left something out. I don't see what this has got to do with Potter, I don't see what's got to do with those two girls, and I don't see why I've got to be kicked off the Quidditch team because of it. I mean, I'd never heard of the Five before this, so they must have been defeated ages ago."

"It does explain it." Harry said suddenly, his eyes glazed over in shock as he realised what he was saying. "The girls... they were looking for a boy. They were looking for the descendant, that's who it was. Because they wanted to kill him... because - because they -" He gulped. "Because they work for the Five. And the Five haven't been defeated yet. They're still terrorising the world, but none of us are allowed to know."

"The descendants must grow up unknowing of their destiny." Dumbledore explained softly.

Harry took another deep breath. "And you're - you're part of the Resistance. You're looking after the descendant, to make sure the Five don't find him; but the two girls - you said they were dead, and they were killed and raised by the Necromancer - they were looking for the descendant, because they'd tracked him to Hogwarts. And they were saying - they were saying it was me. I'm one of the descendants." He looked up.

Dumbledore smiled gently at him, while Draco just looked shocked and terrified. "No, Harry." said the headmaster gently. "You're more than just a descendant. You were, but then part of the prophecy came true because of you. You, Harry, are the Phoenix."


	4. Chapter 4: Water

Chapter 4: Water

---

"And it harm none, so mote it be." - Wiccan Spell Ending

---

Unsure of what else to do, Draco laughed loudly. "Good one! You really had me going for a moment there."

"I'm quite serious," Dumbledore smiled slightly, "and you also come into the story, though not as importantly, nor in the prophecy. The king of Cyrin had a younger brother, whose children were the cousins of the Dark. You are descended from the eldest, down your father's side. As a royal descendant of Cyrin, that is where you get your own ability, Empathy, from." Draco paused for a moment at this. "Does my father know?"

"He is one of the Resistance, as well as I." Dumbledore replied.

"Who's Voldemort, then?" Harry asked suddenly. "Does he know about the Dark?"

"No, he's just a powerful Wizard gone bad." Dumbledore said, a little quickly. Draco gave him a look that quite plainly said 'I can Feel you lying', but Dumbledore shot back a look that replied, 'But Harry doesn't have to know that'. Aloud, he said, "The original leader of the Resistance was Lord John Abyssay, and the job has gone through the family. The leader at this time is Sir Abyssay, who is the one that handles minor events of your life, Harry. Sir Abyssay noticed the excellent opportunity to train your agility and reflexes when it was discovered you are an excellent Quidditch player, and recently decided Draco wasn't enough of a match for you - that's why we want to find a better replacement."

"Thanks." Draco muttered sarcastically.

Harry finally managed to speak. "Why were my parents chosen?"

"Your father was the descendant." Dumbledore explained. "Your mother - though only just above average in power - was a Pastreader, able to see people's pasts or past-lives just by wanting to. It was hoped that you would get that ability, though it's unknown until you try, and tell us."

"So that explains all the property and keys, then?" Harry asked. "The keys are to the houses, and those have been passed down through the generations?"

Dumbledore nodded. "However, I'm afraid we couldn't give you all your money. Not only would it attract unwanted attention from the Dark, if a boy was strangely wealthy, but we didn't want you to grow up selfish or greedy, in case you became dark yourself. You can have it now, but I hope you understand it was for the best."

Harry nodded. In a strange way, he did understand. "Does my being the Phoenix - does it have something to do with why Voldemort wanted to kill me?"

Dumbledore stood up, and walked over to Fawke's empty perch. "I'm afraid so. Voldemort knew you would be powerful - your father had been so - and knew from the protections around you that you were destined for great things. So, he tried to kill you. The backlash was purely because of your mother's love, though."

Draco rolled his eyes. What a load of lies. He mused over why he _had_ wanted to kill Harry, but couldn't think up an answer. "So, three questions." he said loudly. "Firstly, why would my father fight for freedom from the Dark, and oppression with Voldemort? It's a bit hypocritical."

"He's a spy for me." Dumbledore said simply.

Draco stared. "Okay then," he choked out, "Secondly, if Potter's so powerful, and is the result of hundreds of years of selective breeding, descended from the Atlantean royal family, and all that rubbish, why's he so useless?"

Harry glared at this, but Dumbledore seemed amused. "There are certain blocks on his power, which will be taken off soon. Imagine; if an ordinary Wizard baby could make a mirror explode simply by being angry - what could Harry have done if he couldn't control his power? And of course, there was again the risk of the Dark finding out about such a powerful baby and killing him to end the Resistance. And finally?"

"Who else knows about this? Harry, and the Dark, and all that?"

Harry nodded. That was what he wanted to know, as well.

"Only the Resistance. That includes the heads of houses, and I," began Dumbledore, "The Minister - he's not as incompetent as he seems, only a good actor - Rita Skeeter; her job was to make sure you were psychologically fit, by testing your anger thresholds, and seeing how you reacted to humiliation, fear, and so on - and the Unspeakables.

"Officially, they're there as the part of the Department of Mysteries that deals with daemons and Forbidden Magic - not Dark, Forbidden. They're two different things - but really, only half of them deal with that. The other half deal with hunting down spies of the Dark, making sure the Phoenix isn't uncovered, choosing which couples would be best to breed, and so on, though all of them, including the Forbidden magic ones, know. No-one else."

"What happened to the girls?" Harry asked suddenly. Dumbledore's face turned grim. "As you said Harry, they were already dead. The Necromancer killed them, and raised them to do her bidding; the Multielemental Summoned the representative forms of Void and Earth, and the Possessor placed them in the bodies. They were told to look for the descendant. They can only be seen by their eyes; Earth with blue, and Void with starlit.

"Unfortunately, Leone and Natasha were descended from one of the Atlanteans that managed to escape. They knew about the Dark, though not the breeding program, and so I was forced to tell Leone the truth about her sister's death. The elementals that took their bodies are being interrogated by the Unspeakables as we speak."

There was another silence, broken by Draco. "What is the prophecy?"

At this, Dumbledore unlocked another drawer in his desk, and brought out a small scroll. "This is one of the copies we have." he told them, holding it up for them to see. "Throughout the war, there were so many deaths that rules had to be made to prevent the extinction of magic. One of them was that copies could be taken by the Dark, but not the original. That's stored in the Ministry of Magic HQ. These are the exact words."

He passed it over to them. Harry unrolled it, and held it open so both he and Draco could see it, and read;

"_To wax and wane, but never die,  
Rebirth is where its life shall lie,  
Born from the ashes of the parent birds,  
The Phoenix fulfils the pleas it heard.  
Once, twice, thrice more,  
It faces its foe,  
Once, twice, thrice more  
It flees the death blow.  
But the Phoenix's fire was forged  
Centuries ago,  
Carefully controlled and raised,  
It was not allowed to know.  
Just past its fifteenth celebration  
Its powers are released;  
The Guardians stop their tending  
And the fire is then ceased.  
The cage door is unlocked,  
And the Phoenix then flies free;  
Understanding what it is,  
And how it came to be.  
The Phoenix born of ashes,  
Turns to face its enemy;  
The king of all the serpents,  
The most feared adversary.  
If the Phoenix is the victor,  
Then the test is won and passed;  
Next the real battle starts,  
And the bird must not be last -  
For if it is, then all is lost,  
The fire-bird shall die;  
And with it all the others,  
In one loud battle-cry.  
But if the King of Serpents wins,  
The test is failed and lost;  
A different phoenix starts anew  
Failings corrected, but at what cost?  
For the Phoenix and Magpie are gone,  
And none can replace them;  
Only they can defeat the Dark,  
And others shall perish if they face them.  
The fire gives the Light,  
And chases away the Dark;  
But to truly defeat it must be  
The Phoenix and its Storm Mark._"

Draco frowned. "Well, the 'born from the ashes' part is where his parents died, but he lived; the fulfilling pleas is saving people from the Dark Lord; the facing foe is where he meets him again and escapes; the forged fire is him being planned; the carefully controlled is obvious, and so on down 'til 'turns to face its enemy'. What's that?"

"Voldemort." said Harry immediately. "It says 'King of Serpents'. Voldemort's a Parseltongue and heir of Slytherin, and in our second year controlled a Basilisk - the king of serpents. Then it must be if I win against him, I'll go on to the 'real' battle - that must be the Dark; but if I lose when I fight the Dark, I'll die, along with the Resistance. I am the last chance, after all... and if I die when I fight Voldemort, they'll redo the breeding program; 'but at what cost' - that must be like before, there can only be one Phoenix. And only I can defeat the Dark."

Draco still didn't look certain. "There's two things I don't get. Firstly, what's the Magpie? And secondly, if Harry's the last descendant, how could they start the breeding program again? If Harry dies, that's the end."

He didn't seem to notice he was calling him Harry instead of Potter, which Harry was amused at.

"No-one knows what the Magpie is." Dumbledore sighed. "There are theories of course; Animagus forms, other people - as Harry is the Phoenix, Ron could be the Magpie, for example - Patroni; all sorts. And as for the breeding program; it would set it back a few years, but Wizards have spells for things that Muggles don't have the technology for yet. We have some DNA of Harry's; we could clone him, though hopefully it will not come to that."

"So. Do I play any part in this?"

"Possibly, but as far as we know, no." Dumbledore apologised. "If there are no more questions, Harry, I would like to ask you to do something for me."

"Yes Professor?" Harry asked, wondering what Dumbledore wanted.

"As I said, your Mother was a Pastreader. She could See people's lives by touching them or their wand - or sometimes an object of theirs, if it was particularly close to them, emotionally - and focusing on them. I would like to see if this gift has been passed into you, or if it hasn't."

Harry nodded, and Dumbledore reached out one of hands for Harry to touch. "Just do as your mind says."

Harry nodded once more, and shut his eyes, touching his hand to Dumbledores. He concentrated on the image of Dumbledore, but found his thoughts drifting to Dumbledore's mind. _Behind his eyelids, a pale grey cloud formed in his vision, with several strands of grey and white lines encircling it._ _Each strand represents a past life_, Harry realised suddenly, without knowing how_, and the further away they are from the cloud - his mind - the longer ago they were_. He snatched at the string closest to him with his own mind, and felt himself as an observer.

He had no body like in a Pensieve, and was watching some kind of temple. A man ran in, dressed in white robes, about twenty-five years old. "Stop!" he commanded to someone behind Harry. For the first time, Harry noticed a thin white string attaching his own mind to the man. This was Dumbledore in a past life.

He tried to turn to see who the man was shouting at, but found he couldn't. Guards dressed in blue armour, with spears, rushed in after him. The man held out his hands and a glow surrounded them, before everything went white, and - "Agh!" Harry almost fell backwards in shock. "I - I did it!" he gasped. "You - you were there! At the beginning, I saw it - you were him!"

Dumbledore smiled proudly. "Very good, Harry. Now, you two had better go quickly; supper's nearly over."

---

For the first time that day, Harry realised how hungry he was, and checked his watch. It was already seven twenty five, and supper finished at ten past eight. The pair hurriedly thanked him, and left, bound by the secret spell.

Hermione and Ron rushed to his side at supper, obviously worried about his long disappearance, and questioning him as to where he was, and why it took so long. When Harry explained he was with Dumbledore and Malfoy - though he couldn't say why, literally - the pair were even more curious, and then felt offended when Harry explained he couldn't tell them why. Harry was ashamed to admit to himself that at this moment, he didn't really care; firstly, he was curious about his ancestors. Who were they? With hundreds of years of selective breeding, he must have had scores of famous magic-users as his ancestors; he'd have to ask Dumbledore.

Secondly, he knew exactly what the Magpie was. He fingered the magpie feather in his pocket absently. This was the DNA he was going to use to create his Familiar; the Magpie wasn't a Patronus, or a an Animagi form - it was his Familiar, and no ordinary one, but one he would create himself.

Saturday, he promised himself. That's when he'd perform the ritual.

---

After Charms and before break the following day, there was the lesson that the fifth year Gryffindors had been looking forward to - Defence Against the Dark Arts. The first thirty minutes were spent learning more about Volucris daemons, and at the start of the final half-hour, Professor Figg finished the talking and moved on to practical. "This," she announced loudly and dramatically, "is the special treat I had planned."

With drawn out movements to increase the suspense, she watched the class impassively while reaching slowly into a large, black, crushed velvet bag she had with her. She took something that was inside, then stopped.

"I must warn you, this is a rare and valuable object." she cautioned, "It was made in a special, week long ceremony, with a pearl, dragons' blood, tens of rare and powerful herbs and ingredients - as well as several hour-long incantations. This has been passed down in my family along the first-borns for over twenty generations, so I need hardly mention its importance to me and my family."

With that, she drew it out the bag. It was about a foot and a half in width and height, perfectly smooth and a glittering, shining white, with thin, jagged stripes of pure black scattered across it. It was a gorgeous, incredibly large pearl - but Harry had no idea what the black was, or what the pearl was for.

It was beautiful anyway, and Harry gasped along with the others The light caught it, making it seem even more radiant, and the students moved closer without realising it. Figg held it higher so they could all see it, straining at the weight. "This is a Myrrh Cage, a magical device. There are only seventeen in existence, each belonging to an old magical family. They're used to trap daemons, since they're impossible to kill; this one contains six of them."

As one, the class halted their inching forwards and scraped their desks back as the hurried to get further away from the pearl. "Each Cage can hold any amount of daemons, and these black lines, called Tellers, show how many they contain." said Figg, pretending she hadn't noticed. "The amount of Tellers on the surface is the same amount as the daemons inside. Instead of Summoning a daemon, people could also just free one from a Myrrh Cage, which would be a lot easier - that's why these are extremely well guarded."

Hermione was taking notes again, and the rest of the class was listening intently. "You could only get a daemon out of a Cage deliberately - there's no way one could escape, or you could get one out by accident." Figg explained cheerfully. "This particular one was left in a will to one of my ancestors, when the original owner didn't have any children. They're typically passed down along the first-borns, whose job it is to protect them and make sure they aren't stolen, but when the Witch in charge of it knew she would die childless, she passed it along to my family, who were close to her. Now, it's come down to me. Yes, Mr Thomas?"

Dean stopped waving his hand eagerly. "Professor, have you or your family caught any daemons, or were they all trapped inside it already?" Figg beamed. "Four of the daemons were already inside it when it went to my family - my grandfather caught another, and I trapped one myself."

Immediately, there was a clamouring for her to recount the tale, and she did so; telling how, about twenty years ago, a dark Wizard in Ireland had Summoned an Equus Daemon; a horse-like type with a scorpion tail, a pair of huge, crab-like pincers and incredible magic, but had got the binding wrong, and had been slaughtered by it. Then the daemon turned on the Wizard's family and killed them, before escaping and massacring everyone outside.

Within minutes of hearing the news, Figg, as the owner of the closest Myrrh Cage, had Apparated to the street, set up a pentacle, fought the beast singled-handed into the centre, bound it there, and then trapped it in the cage.

Of course, she admitted, it had been quite a young one, weakened already by the Aurors, and it had been when she was in her prime - but it was too late. Instantly, she was hailed as a heroine by her new fans, and the lesson was, in everyone's opinion, over _far_ too soon. At lunch, everyone was so busy talking about her defeat of the daemon, that few remembered what she'd trapped it _in_. Some people remembered it however, and told others - and when the information that a Myrrh Cage was in the school reached a certain person, they had a plan...

---

While Ron had History and Hermione had Arithmancy next, Harry had Divination; and when, upon entering the room, Trelawney wailed about the 'Spectre of Death lurking behind you, my dear boy! Ready to strike at any moment!', he quickly determined that he would use his new-found ability of Pastreading for the greater good - in other words, to freak the professor out so badly, that she's never want to teach him again.

He waited for the moment to present itself, which it soon did. As the teacher inspected his crystal ball, bending low over him, Harry made his move. Yelling in what sounded like agony, Harry fell forwards, reaching out and grabbing Trelawney's wrist as he did so. Quickly, he focused on her mind and fell forwards - much faster than when he hadn't know what he was doing - into the view of the fog. This was slightly darker than Dumbledore's, but had more life-strings surrounding it; about twenty or so.

Harry grasped the fog (which had occasional black streaks drifting through it), rather than any of the strings, so he could now See her present life, and ordered it mentally to show him a recent, but trivial moment from her life.

What seemed like an hour later, he woke, and realising where he was, feigned an expression of dazed pain and shock. "Harry, my dear boy!" trilled the professor in a strange mixture of disappointment and delight on seeing he was still very much alive. "We thought the black Spectre of Death had taken your soul!"

"I didn't think so," Seamus Finnigan muttered, but Trelawney didn't hear.

"You just yelled, and fell forwards!" Parvati squealed in glee. "And then a second later, you just woke up! Did you have a vision?" Now the gaze of the whole class was on Harry - for once, exactly what he wanted. He nodded.

Instantly, there were gasps. "What was it, my boy? Did you foresee your demise?" No prizes for guessing who said _that_ one. Harry put on a brave, but tortured, face. "It was terrible, Professor." he said, closing his eyes as if he was seeing the horror all over again, and gritting his teeth. "Just as you came near me, I had a sudden pain in my head - and then a voice said 'The sister of the Dark Warrior will be dead by the next new moon.'"

Trelawney went pale, and Harry resisted the urge to burst into hysterics right there and then. "My brother's name means 'Dark Warrior'," she wailed, inciting 'oohs' and 'aah's from Lavender and Parvati. "As the tenth is the next new moon," she said, acting every bit the grief-stricken victim, "I must conserve my strength for that fateful day, class... you're dismissed." With that, she turned and collapsed into her over-stuffed seat, fanning her face.

Glad to have brought some joy to the world, Harry left the room, feeling particularly pleased. Who would have thought that a simple vision of a twelve year old Trelawney and her brother, being told the meaning of their names, could have so amusing an effect?

---

The girl from Atlantis didn't seem bothered by the fact she was alone in a huge, dark forest in early Winter. In fact, she seemed quite pleased about it. On the other hand, it probably was only to be expected if she'd been stuck under the Atlantic Ocean for God knows how many years, and was now free to do what she liked.

The rickety cottage had looked ready to fall down on Monday, but now on Thursday evening, it appeared well looked after. The stones that made its walls were new-looking, the windows replaced, and the wooden door had been fixed back on to its hinges. The thatched roof had been repaired, and the moss that grew over the walls now looked alive and healthy rather than dead and crumbling.

It was, quite obviously, the work of magic; and specifically, magic worked by girl who now sat on the grass outside the cottage, humming cheerfully and flicking through a huge brown book - surely she didn't have that before, though? - , entitled '_Enchantments for the Journeyman_'. Occasionally, she stopped at a page and read through carefully, before returning to turning pages. By her side lay her wand; it was about twelve and a half inches, and was made of holly inscribed with what seemed to be runes. It couldn't be seen, of course, what the core was.

The girl looked up at the sky suddenly and scowled, before closing her book and picking up her wand, then getting up and going inside the cottage. A wispy cloud drifted overhead, and bird song rang out from the trees. Yet somehow, someone, somewhere, threatened to shatter the tranquillity; and they were already making plans.

---

Harry muddled his way through the final lesson of the day (Potions), before escaping to supper with Hermione and Ron. The girl was recounting the ancient legend of how Syneeta had been sentenced to life as a daemon, and had been banished beyond the Ten Gates of Elysium, what sounded like their version of Hell.

His eyes, finally fixed yesterday by the eye-correcting fluid, scanned the Great Hall. Draco was talking to Blaise Zabini, a boy in his year, the teachers were all seated at the table (except for Trelawney, who was never there), and no-one was missing. "So then," he heard Hermione explain excitedly to Ron, "Y'Laagrondd gave Syneeta over to be judged by Suipui, the God of Justice, and he sentenced her to be a daemon until someone broke her curse. Naoze and Aisiivou, the God and Goddess of Elysium, took her away and imprisoned her beyond the Tenth Gate, which is the part where the daemons and evil spirits were said to live - but the story goes that she escaped into our world, and was eventually captured by a human."

Ron hid a yawn, and nodded in fake interest at the myth, urging Hermione to continue.

"Talking of daemons," Dean butted in, "have you heard what Figg's done with the Myrrh Cage?"

Hermione looked interested. "No. What?"

"She's only gone and lent it to Trelawney!" Dean scowled. "The old bat says she wants to try and See how each daemon was imprisoned in it, and of course Figg doesn't know she's just a fraud, so she agreed to it." He shook his head angrily. "I wanted to have a closer look at that, too."

"Well, never mind." Seamus said slyly, "I'm sure Figg will get it back once the new moon has passed, and Trelawney's dead." The Gryffindors laughed at that, and recounted the tale to those who weren't present at the lesson. Harry himself gave a secret grin; no-one had a clue how Harry knew what Trelawney's brother's name was.

His mind drifted off to the thought of his Familiar. The Magpie of Merlin's final prophecy would be created in just two days, and he would have his Familiar to serve with him. At the thought that the Familiar would make him more powerful, he wondered how powerful he really was, and when the wards on his power would be taken off. The Charmometer obviously wasn't able to break past the magic-blocks, so until they were removed, he wouldn't know.

On the other hand, if he was tested at birth, then Dumbledore should know his real power. Harry thought for a moment about asking him, but then decided against it. He'd find out soon, anyway.

---

Friday came and went; Transfiguration, History and Magical Languages (in which they started on the basic nouns of Mermish) came and went, and in the afternoon the trio visited Hogsmeade to celebrate the end of their first week back at school. "Although," as Hermione pointed out, "as we came back on Sunday, we've only been here six days, not seven." However, she didn't seem to see this as a valid reason to stop drinking Butterbeer.

Harry felt slightly queasy in the Three Broomsticks when he noted they were sitting at the same table Diana and Natasha had been, but the feeling quickly passed. After their drinks, the three wandered the village, Hermione nearly drooling over '_The Unabridged Collection of Ghost Types_' and '_The Domestic Application of Enchantments_', that sat in the bookstore's window, which she only stopped gazing at when she went in to buy them.

While Hermione and Ron looked in the store, Harry wanted to resist the temptation to buy more books, and waited outside for them to finish. He stood in boredom for a minute, before looking at the rest of the books in the window, promising himself that he wouldn't buy them.

There was Lockhart's latest best-seller (it seemed the prat had regained his memories), _Battle With A Basilisk_; _Practical Geomancy_; _Dragons' Social Organisation_ (by Charlie Weasley!); _The Faerie Rings_; _So You've Found Out You're A Wizard? A Guide for Muggle-borns_; and _Apparition: The MOM Authorised Guide_.

Ron and Hermione spent a thankfully short time in the shop, Hermione coming out with her nose buried in '_The Unabridged Collection of Ghost Types_', and Ron with the latest edition of '_Quidditch Through The Ages_'.

None of them noticed a figure watching them carefully from inside Gladrags, eyes fixed on Harry.

---

"I'm stuffed." announced Ron, leaning back in his seat after filling his stomach in The Laughing King; a pub-turned-restaurant next to the village hall, two doors down from Honeydukes. Although there wasn't any Butterbeer, the food was even better than The Three Broomsticks, and was fast becoming popular with the students since its opening late in the previous year.

Hermione scowled. "Maybe," she pointed out, "if you hadn't eaten a whole cooked dinner, _and_ Yorkshire puddings, _and_ two bowls of raspberry-ripple ice-cream and chocolate cake, you wouldn't be full." She paused for a second. "Although you'll probably be sick later, so that should empty out your stomach."

Ron's face went green at this thought. "I think I'll skip those Every Flavour Beans I was planning on eating."

"Good idea." grinned Harry, whose thoughts were on the Familiar ritual tomorrow. He reached up to take off his glasses to clean, remembered he wasn't wearing any, and resisted the urge to yell, 'I can see! I can see!'.

"Do you have the feeling," Hermione asked suddenly, after their dishes had been taken away, "that we're being watched?" At this, Ron 'subtly' looked round in a way that wouldn't have fooled a five-year old. "No." he said.

Harry shrugged. "I can't feel it." he answered Hermione. "Are you sure you're not just feeling things?"

"_Quite_ sure, thank you." Hermione sniped. "I've felt it since we were shopping, but I thought I might have been imag-"

"Or maybe you weren't," Ron said darkly as the bell on the door - left from when the pub-turned-restaurant was a pair of shops - tinkled. Draco Malfoy entered, half-slouched, eyes gleaming, and followed by his two goons. The boy caught sight of them, sneered, and led Crabbe and Goyle over to an empty table, where he started muttering something to them.

"Probably talking about the best way to torture Muggles." sneered Ron glaring, and Harry felt a bit annoyed that he couldn't tell anyone that Lucius Malfoy was a spy. Briefly he wondered whether Draco wanted to be a Death Eater - but since Dumbledore though it safe to tell him, it wasn't very likely.

As he and the others got up and made their way out, Harry nearly tripped over a chair when he remembered something the other boy had said in Dumbledore's office; '_...I don't see why I've got to be kicked off the Quidditch team because of it..._'. Draco was going to be kicked off the team? Because he wasn't enough of a challenge for _Harry_? He felt guilty, and sorry for Draco, and then wondered when the pale boy had changed from Malfoy to Draco in his mind. He was, however, snapped out of his reverie when they stopped outside one building to stare in the window.

"Wow!" breathed Hermione, her eyes scanning the posters. "Just imagine that! Four weeks in Barbados, a hundred and ten Galleons per person! That's incredible - do you realise how _cheap_ that is?"

Harry looked up to the sign. It was a Wizarding travel agency, called '_Tinneus and Tracheus Trips and Tours_', which explained why there were so many moving pictures in the window of smiling, waving families and sunbathing Witches.

"Well, it isn't as though you have to pay for transport," Ron pointed out. "They're just finishing setting up special Portplaces in different cities and towns world-wide - they're kind of like travelling by Floo, but a lot more powerful, and they have set times and destinations like Portkeys."

"So it's like an airport then?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"Er - probably." hazarded Ron, who didn't have a clue what an airport was.

Half a minute later, Harry found himself and Ron dragged inside by Hermione, who was now staring, starry-eyed, as she flipped through various magazines and brochures. "Ooh, we could go on a big holiday together when we've finished Hogwarts, just the three of us," she trilled, turning pages impossibly fast.

"Well, then let's look at the brochures when we're in seventh year, _when the prices will have changed_."

"Don't be silly, Ron. We should have a good idea of where we want to go beforehand."

"Yes, but maybe not whilst we're still in _fifth_ year, hmm?"

Hermione actually paused for a second, as though thinking. "Nah," she said, and continued. Harry rolled his eyes and left the two to argue, picking up a leaflet about the annual Swedish Broom Race in December. He noted that some famous people were competing in it - a player from the Tutshill Tornados, two from the Woollongong Warriors, Victor Krum, and someone from the Stonewall Stormers, who was being sponsored to race to raise money for one of the North American magical hospitals.

Wondering whether Hermione knew that Krum would be competing, Harry called them over. "Do you think you could get permission to go to Sweden in the Christmas holidays?" he grinned, "'Cause I have an idea."

---

On Saturday morning, Harry drew the curtains round his bed, pulled the laptop inside the enclosed space, turned the sound down, and switched it on. He hadn't had a chance to have another go at it, what with homework and his friends, but now he had all day.

He clicked on to Techno-Chat, where he was glad to find Rhiannon and 'Sleepless' conversing about the benefits of Crups as opposed to Kneazles. Guessing that 'Sleepless' must be the witch from Seattle, Harry typed a hello on to the screen, and after introducing himself and being introduced ('Sleepless' real name was Lynne, '_but you can call me L, or Lynne, or Sleepless, or Ly, or Li, or Sleepy. Or Bob, but that's another story._'), found himself arguing alongside Rhiannon that Crups and Kneazles were both better than Pixies.

He chatted for a while longer, and then went about his usual business, breakfast, homework and hanging out by the lake with Ron and Hermione. When afternoon came around, Harry had lunch and then retired to bed early, complaining of a headache and brushing aside his friends' requests that he go to the hospital wing.

The dormitory was empty, apart from Crookshanks (who seemed to have taken to the boys' dorm. Mysteriously, no-one knew how he got in and out - Harry suspected the girls were sneaking him in, just to annoy Dean), who raised a bleary eye before returning to his nap on Dean's bed.

From his trunk, Harry picked out the equipment and ingredients - the candles, violet, cloves, coltsfoot; sage wisdom, rosemary, chalk, ribbon, and Monty's feather. He also picked out a piece of parchment that he'd written the incantation on, in case he forgot it, and (after putting a weightless charm on the items) wrapped them all in his father's Invisibility Cloak.

Checking the Marauders Map, he found the third floor corridor - that was still out of bounds, though to a lesser degree - was empty, and its size would make it ideal for the ritual.

Making sure the other two-thirds of the Gryffindor trio were in the library, he slipped out of the tower and casually but quickly headed over to the stairs that led to the third floor. He pretended to do his shoelace on the fourth floor stairs while some Hufflepuffs walked past, before going back down the steps and muttering '_Alohomora_' at where the inside bolt of the door was whilst tapping it with his wand.

Before anyone could come by, Harry slid inside, and closed and bolted the heavy oak door.

The corridor was as dusty and cobwebbed as ever, the few streaks of sunlight that managed to enter came from grey, unwashed windows, and the tiles of the floor could barely be seen for all the accumulated dirt and grime over the past years. Everything was a dark grey, or black.

"Perfect," Harry grumbled, "how am I meant to see the chalk marking now?" He removed the weightless charm and removed the equipment from the cloak, before finding the chalk. The dust was quite easy to move, as no-one had stood on it and ingrained it into the floor - and a few cleaning spells from '_The Cosmic Classic of One Thousand Invocations_' and '_The Domestic Application of Enchantments_' helped as well - and soon, the ground could be seen.

The silver-white tiles were placed tightly together, with no gaps, which would make it all the more easier for the pentacle to be placed correctly with no gaps.

The boy quickly drew the pentacle, with a small circle joined on to the end of each of the five points. Within one circle, he put the rosemary; in the next the cloves, then sage wisdom, followed by coltsfoot. The coltsfoot came at the bottom, but the top circle - the one closest to him - was left empty.

So far, so good; the ritual was surprisingly simple, the hard part being to remember the words for the incantation. Harry set the candles up now - alternating brown and yellow, one at each place that parts of two triangles met. The animal part had to be the very last thing added, and so he walked round the pentacle and placed the feather in the top circle.

Lighting the candles with his wand, Harry finally stood back and recited the spell - a translated Atlantean one, according to the source; all Harry knew was that he may have learnt to pronounce it, but that didn't mean he actually understood it.

"_Tonur verae, el amast carnaena. Tonur verae, el bewyryn soten.  
_'_Anya stikal Moun; inar qelai.  
_'_Nucco stikal Dal; inar qelai.  
_'_Beowna stikal Laiyseen; inar qelai.  
_'_Nevrant se laefana, aiono min da. El viornen hinin masika tupris.  
_'_Tonur verae, maounai s'el mando; oni duunbarat..._"

Harry could feel his mouth becoming dry as he spoke, and paused before continuing. _I wonder what this spell actually means_, he mused. _Probably something really stupid..._

However, now Harry was starting to feel stupid. He was three verses in out of seven verses, and absolutely nothing had happened. When he reached the fifth verse, however, something finally did start to happen.

Firstly, as Harry watched and continued reciting, the hers began to vibrate softly, and the points of the pentacles wriggled before - rather than just touching the circles - actually joined on to them and opened up, forming a tunnel.

As he continued, a little louder now that he was gaining confidence in the spell, the herbs shook harder and faster, and the candle flames flickered slightly, before turning to the colour of the candles they sat upon. Small grains of the herbs - the pieces that typically fall right into the corners of bags - not only looked as though they were being shaken by a minor earthquake, but also seemed to be edging towards the interior pentagram. As each grain reached the edge, they were suddenly pulled inside, straight to the very centre, where they floated around each other as if lacking gravity.

As Harry got further into the incantation, the larger pieces of the herbs started inching towards the centre, where the same thing happened to them. As the number of specks, grains and blobs began to increase, they also started to close in on each other, rather than just floating where they were. Whilst the remaining herbs raced to join them, the ones in the centre were forming a small, planet shaped mass, tightly packed together and perfectly smooth.

As the last bit of rosemary flitted into the sphere, the white feather began to glow a pale yellow, before shooting to join the herbs. It passes straight _through_ the sphere into the middle of it, whereupon the entire thing started sending out gleaming blue light.

"_Fynor matable el inar qelai._" Harry finished, picking up the length of ribbon. and tying a knot in the centre of it. The sphere was humming now, thrumming and throbbing in midair as if an electrical pulse were going through it.

Holding each end of the ribbon and pulling it taut, Harry stepped over to the pentacle...

And Ron and Hermione burst through the door.

---

Harry managed to swallow the yelp of shock that was on the tip of his tongue. "What are you _doing_ here?" he squawked in horror. They'd barged in on him in a rather... interesting situation.

"Funny; we were about to ask _you _the same thing." Ron smirked not very pleasantly. "Especially since you're up in the dormitory with a headache."

Hermione nodded furiously. "Something to tell us, Harry?" she snapped, closing and bolting the back over.

Harry felt the sudden sensation of being trapped, and lowered his arms, but held on to the ribbon. "I - I didn't think you'd let me do it." he said weakly, deciding it was a better excuse than 'It's a spell I got from a magical laptop, but just pretend I never told you that'.

The bushy-haired girl snorted. "Like that would stop you. What is it then? Something Dark, no doubt?"

Harry winced. "No! It's - well - I just... it isn't _Dark_, I just didn't think you'd want to be a part of it, and well, it's sort of a - personal spell."

Ron and Hermione's eyes flicked from Harry, to the ribbon, to the pentacle and candles, to the glowing orb of unidentifiable origins that hovered in mid-air. Ron raised an eyebrow. "What _is_ it?"

Harry gave in. "It's a Familiar spell."

"Familiar to who?"

"No!" Harry groaned, "The animal Familiars! I found a spell that said if you get DNA from an animal - like one of its hairs, or whatever - then you can create an entirely new animal from it, except it'll be your Familiar. I was just finishing it right now, when you came in."

The pairs' tempers seemed to have gone down. "Harry," Hermione gasped, sounding amazed. "You can't just _create_ a Familiar, that's - that's impossible! You have to find a normal animal who has the ability to _be_ one, and Bind it - and only one in about two and a quarter million animals have the ability..." But her eyes gave her away.

"Then it's much easier if I make one myself, right?" Harry grinned, holding up the rope. "Mind if I finish?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, and shrugged. "We're watching, though." Ron warned.

"Fine," Harry shrugged, and pulled the rope taut again. Pulling one end to one side of the pentacle, and the other to the opposite side, Harry positioned it until the knot started to touch the orb. Immediately, with a loud **_crack_**, the ribbon shot into the pentagram that was the interior of the pentacle, and - impossibly so, for the ribbon wasn't _that_ long - started binding the herb-orb like a mummy wrapped in scarlet bandages.

"Cool!" Ron gasped, as the flames of the candles all leant towards the orb, the fires becoming longer and thinner until they touched the sphere - and the flames were sucked from the tip of the string, to cover the outside of the ribbon in rippling, rolling, liquid fire of yellow, brown, and the occasional hint of red flashing through.

"_Tonur verae, inar qelai._' Harry ended, and as he said the final words, the flames on the orb turned to white, and the orb itself shifted and stretched in and out like liquid putty.

Then, in a flash of brilliant light and a resounding scream of energy, the sphere took the shape of the Familiar.

---

The girl was still in the woods, though she was now dressed in a plain black robe, and had her hair tied into a long, russet plait that fell down to the back of her knees. The cottage was back to crumbling, as though she had never been there - and perhaps she hadn't, because a moment later, she departed in a rune-studded glow of purple.

She reappeared in Hogsmeade, and started searching.

---

It's cold. Nothing happens. No warmth. No light. No darkness. Just cold. Just nothing. How long has it been? A day? A year? A century? I don't know... can't remember. Just drift. Still. No movement. Starving... hungry for so long. Need blood. Flesh. Meat. Don't care if it's poisoned, rotting, scorched. Just need it.  
Do you... promise? Free me? Yes... obey... as long as I'm free... I'll have revenge... make them all pay...  
How dare they do this? No light. No darkness. I'll make them regret. Starving. Blood. Forgetting. It's been too long... how long? Can't remember... long enough. Who... where am I?  
What? Yes... yes! Not much longer now. No movement. Soon... soon I'll taste blood... warm, flowing blood... warmth... movement... food... free me? Soon.

---

Not much longer - a few days. We'll both get what we want, just by working together, and when she returns, I'll be happy. We'll both be - and so will you. Yes. Just do what I want you to do, and I'll reward you. I'll free you, I'll feed you; and you'll be the means to bring her to me.  
Soon. Very soon; so close I can feel my heart pound just for it, so close I can taste it, so close I dream about it.  
And above all, I'll make them pay. Have my_ revenge, just as you'll have yours. Why didn't - they should have. _I_ will. _I will_. I'll do it. With your help, it'll be easy. The only hard part will be getting to you... your guardian is strong, too strong for me. But in another's hands, as you are now, it'll be only a matter of time.  
Just a few days. You'll come back; I have everything prepared. And after that, after we've proved our worth, we'll strike a deal. A deal with _them_. I know no sane person would, but it's the only way. She'll come back - and we'll be powerful. So powerful together... and you - you can help us. Our own pet killing machine. Soon._

myII willthem 

_--- _

Where is he? I've connected... I'm tracking him, tracing his signal - it's already left its imprint on him. Ah. He's there. I have to stop them... who knows what they could do? But it's easy for her to get, I know what she's planning.  
That girl... that fifth year Gryffindor with the brown hair - I know what she's planning, that stupid, evil fool - she'd kill thousands if she could get her way. And if she does, she'll kill thousands more, anyway...  
The boy. The boy can stop her - the dragon boy. I just hope I can get to him before she kills him or uses him as a bargaining chip. That traitor... how could she turn on family, friends, history, just to make herself content and powerful? No matter. We'll stop her. We have to; she'll probably act in a week or two, to make sure it'll all work.  
Merlin - perhaps - no. Best if I don't.  
But then, how will I get the dragon boy to trust me? He won't believe a complete stranger... probably think I'm trying to kill him. I'll deal with that when I come to it.  
There's probably a few weeks to stop her - the lion girl. I thought she was meant to be smart... ha. I'll stop her.  
I'll begin in just a few days... and no-one can stop me...  
She'll begin in a few weeks... no need to hurry... I'll stop her...

---

Harry's eyes were fixed on his Familiar, unaware of what certain people were planning

But he soon would be.

Soon...


	5. Chapter 5: Lightning

Chapter 5: Lightning 

---

THE NEW GOD IS DEAD. THEY KILLED HIM. THEY KILLED HIM. - 24/7

---

From out of the orb that glowed with an eerie luminescence, a creature took shape. Within an instant of the blinding flash and the wailing screech like that of a banshee, a bird replaced the sphere. However, rather than looking like a normal magpie, such as it should, there were a few odd things about it - which Hermione, needless to say, was only too eager to point out.

"Look at that," she breathed in barely restrained excitement, her voice almost reverent awe at this creation. "I mean, I can't believe - just look at it!"

"I am," murmured Ron, more amazed it actually worked, than thrilled.

Hermione babbled happily on, "I mean, I've never heard of this spell, so I'm not certain how it works, but you would expect the ritual to copy the DNA in the feather, and grow a whole new bird out of it - imbuing it with the necessary magic to become a possible Familiar before it was complete, and Binding the Familiar to the person who chanted the spell, or who added the sample -"

"Hermione?"

" - but if you just look at it, it's pretty obvious that it doesn't work that way, not if it's cast correctly, at least. If it had, then obviously it would appear as a normal magpie, but as you can see, it's _entirely white_! Can you believe that? I mean, I don't understand it at all, from what Professor Flitwick said about Magical Theory, that should be impossi- look, it's even got an outline of a gold circle, just a bit above and between the eyes, I mean, it doesn't look like a magpie, you'd never expect it to be one, though it's not obvious that it's your Familiar either, so I suppo-"

"_HERMIONE!_"

That, fortunately, caught her attention.

"Yes?"

"You're babbling," explained Harry, though his eyes were fixed on the peculiar avis. "We noticed it was white - you didn't need to point it out."

"I was just commenting on how strange it was." Hermione scowled, and Harry and Ron's minds filled in the missing word at the end, which happened to be '_repeatedly_'.

Harry shook himself out of his motionless stupor and rubbed out part of the pentagram, allowing the Familiar out. The bird cocked its head to one side, staring at him with a beady, golden eye, and gave a noise like it was choking on something. Then it hopped over to its new master, wings at its side and looking as supernatural as it was.

---

Sybil Trelawney was a world-renowned True Seer - well, in her fantasies, anyway - and although she couldn't discern emotions any more than a usual person could, she had great gifts when it came to magical objects. She didn't know how to service a broom or insert a wand core into a piece of wood - but she was a master when it came to dealing with the magical aura of an object.

If you wanted to know whether a broom had been jinxed, a jewel cursed, or an enchanted blade had _really_ belonged to Beowulf or the shop-owner had just conned you out of a few hundred Galleons, she was the one to go to. Not many knew of this gift; to be frank, she'd rather lose it entirely, and be able to make real predictions at will, as a few of the more famous Seers throughout history could do; but still, it was something to 'let slip' at parties.

At the moment, she had forsaken a few hours of sleep to peer intently into the Myrrh Cage to try and see whatever was hidden in its depths. She had already studied it a while ago, but something - she couldn't place exactly _what_ - had changed in it since then, and since she was going to die by the next new moon, which was the coming Tuesday, she had decided that she might as well try to find out what had happened to it.

Trelawney ran her long, carefully painted nails over the surface of the orb, looking at it from every angle. The aura surrounding it - pure white, with streaks of black above where the Tellers where. As she turned the daemonic Cage round, inspecting it, she finally saw what was wrong with the aura.

It had changed in one part, since the last time she had checked, and that had been only a few hours ago. Above one of the Tellers, the aura; instead of the black streak, had turned to a smoky, iridescent grey, and gently pulsated when she ran her hands over it. The actual Teller looked no different, but the aura was certainly unusual - unique.

Trelawney first thought of asking Figg whether this was normal, but chose against it; after all, it was highly unlikely that the other professor could see the aura, and so it was doubtful whether she would know. Her second thought was of telling Dumbledore, or even Flitwick (who may have an idea as to what it was), but the same reason quelled those ideas.

Resolving to search the darkest parts of the Hogwarts library in the morning, she slipped the Cage back into its velvet bag, and prepared for bed. She didn't get to sleep for a long time.

---

"Ajax," said Hermione at breakfast the next morning.

"That's nice." replied Harry, cramming some bacon into his mouth. "Why are you speaking gibberish?"

Ron snorted into his pumpkin juice, while Hermione just scowled. "Ajax is a _name_, Harry. And it would fit your -" she looked around, conspiratorially, as though no-one had anything better to do than listen in on the trio's conversations. "- _Familiar_, perfectly."

Harry perked up at this. "Really? What does it mean?"

"Eagle," said Hermione, proud of her knowledge of Greek names.

Ron frowned. "'Mione, I'm really sorry to have to tell you this, but he's a magpie, not an eagle."

"I know that!" the brown-haired girl snapped impatiently, "but it's a good name, isn't it Harry? It sounds really majestic, and it even _means_ something majestic."

Harry had to admit it was true. "I'll ask him whether he likes it," he agreed, taking some toast. "I don't see why I have to hide him in the dorm, though."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry, are you daft? At least in there, only Dean, Neville and Seamus will see him. If you take him down to breakfast, _everyone_ will want to know where you got him."

That was twice in one minute that Harry had to concede that someone was right.

"Right, then." Hermione announced, finishing her breakfast. "I'm going to be in the dormitory, reading my ghost book - and that 'Rare Powers' book you lent me, Harry, so you know where to find me if anyone needs me."

---

While Hermione was in her dormitory, and Ron was in the second round of the Gryffindor chess tournament, Harry decided to catch up on his reading, too. He'd already finished the '_Cabbalistic Hierarchy_', '_Ethical Magic_', and '_Advanced History of the Magical World_'; as Binns was so boring, most students just read the set books, and then fell asleep during the actual lessons; and he had quickly read the DADA and COMC books during the holidays. He'd even written a list of the books he had on some parchment, and was ticking them off as he went through.

He put a line through the '_Rare Powers and Extinct Abilities_' - he'd forgotten to mark that one off when he'd finished it - and checked which one to read next.

'_The Cosmic Classic of One Thousand Invocations_'? Perhaps.

'_The Dictionary of Magical Languages_'? A definite possibility.

'_Magical Art and Sculpture_'? Well, it sounds interesting...

'_A Discussion on the Uses and Placing of Magic_'? Not today.

'_The Domestic Use of Glamours_'? Maybe later.

'_Familiar Animals, Familiar Spirits_'? Of course!

'_The Ultimate Dictionary of Quidditch_'? Who could refuse?

'_Ancient Bulgarian Magic; The Gift from the Heavens_'? He might as well finish what he'd started.

'_The Marauders Guide to Mischief-Making_'? Another must.

'_The Standard Book of Spells_'? A possibility.

'_Within the Mind, Beyond the Sight_'? Divination? Yeah, right.

'_Taking O.W.Ls; the Quick Way to an Early Grave_'? Worth a look.

'_The Elegant Universe_'? Yawn.

'_Apprentice Masters' Potions_'? Heck, no.

'_So You Want To Speak Mermish?_'? Not particularly.

'_Pictures in the Mind_'? Absolutely!

'_Phoenix Communication; The Purest of them All_'? Maybe...

When lunch-time came around, Harry had finished the books on Familiars, Bulgarian magic, and had read the first six chapters in his latest Quidditch book. Ajax was gone when he had returned from breakfast, though Dean; who had been in the dorm; told Harry he had seen the bird fly out the window soon after Harry had left.

"Your pet probably went to find some breakfast," he said, before asking what type of bird it was, and where Harry had got it. Harry was quick to reply that he wasn't quite sure what it was, but he'd got it in a magical pet shop - and that it must have returned today after delivering a long-distance letter that he'd sent just before getting on the Hogwarts Express.

He had shaken the rather disgusting thought of Ajax bent over some road-kill out of his head before reading, and over the next couple of days, everything proceeded quite normally.

Though Ron and Hermione both insisted on knowing exactly how he had found the spell to create Ajax, Harry explained that he had found the instructions in an old diary in the second-hand Dark Arts shops in Knockturn Alley (Hermione wasn't too impressed with them having been down there - though she _was_ pleased when she tried the Charmometer, and discovered she was a Magician), and even showed her the parchment he had copied the chant on to as proof.

---

On Tuesday afternoon, however, when the trio were first to finish lunch and head up to the Divination tower, everything suddenly stopped being normal. Because, at twenty-three minutes past one, on Tuesday afternoon, Harry, Ron and Hermione found Professor Sybil Trelawney's classroom in ruins, blood stains on the walls and floor, and the professor's almost unrecognisable corpse lying on the floor, her face trapped in an agonising scream of terror.

Their reactions were what anyone would expect - freeze and yell for help. Their hesitation only lasted for a maximum of two seconds, before they acted; Harry went as white as an egg and whipped his wand out. Ron went more of an ashen grey, like a zombie from a bad horror movie and backed down the steps, eyes wide and hands covering his mouth and nose; to keep out the smell, or keep down the vomit, Harry wasn't sure - probably both.

Hermione had probably the most sensible reaction; alert others and gain help quickly. She pulled out her wand as well, but also screamed for help. When it seemed that no-one was coming, she turned to Ron. "Get down to the Great Hall, and get Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey." she told him, her eyes glistening with tears of fear and shock.

"Get Professor Figg, too." Harry ordered, not turning around. "Hermione, I think we should get out of here and close the door - we shouldn't disturb anything."

Hermione nodded, and they backed down the stairs, which rose up again once they were off. Ron's footsteps could be heard, going at break-neck speed down the hall. Harry leaned against the wall, wand still out in case whoever had done it was still nearby, and Hermione flung open the nearest door and brought up her lunch.

Harry sympathised - he felt like retching too, but he knew that would come later. Right now, he had to control himself; be ready if whoever it was came back.

The girl turned shakily around to face Harry, and gave a weak smile, letting her book-bag slip off her shoulder like Harry had done. It would only weigh them down if they had to run. "What was that?" she croaked, the taste of vomit still fresh in her mouth.

Harry only shook his head, still terrified but alert. "You're the bookworm. You tell me."

"It looked like she was drained of blood," Hermione's words stumbled out, "like a vampire bit her. She was completely drained - entirely white, all over - and there wasn't enough blood around the room to be all that was in her, so someone must have taken it. Except it couldn't be a vampire, because..." she hesitated, as though not wanting to think about the _thing_ they had just seen, "... well, because vampires don't tear off their sections of victim's skin, or rip out their eyes and tongue." she finished, so quietly that Harry had to strain to hear her.

"Unless that was one heck of a sick vampire, it was something else." Harry agreed, the colour starting to return to his face. His ears pricked as he heard something down the corridor, getting closer - no, he must have imagined it.

But still...

Motioning for Hermione to be silent and raise her wand, Harry ran through various spells in his mind, and cursed himself for choosing to read Quidditch books over spell-books.

Fortunately, as the sounds grew closer, and his grip tightened on the wand, he realised that it didn't matter - because, as the noise-makers came into view, he saw that they were the teachers and Ron.

Dumbledore was in front, followed by Ron, Madam Pomfrey and Figg; behind them were the four heads of houses. _Of course_, Harry thought dazedly, _if this has something to do with the Five, Dumbledore and the heads of houses are the only teachers who know, so they'd have to be here in case..._

All of them had their wands out, and Harry lowered his own, and relaxed, as did Hermione. Ron gave the pair a reassuring, if somewhat unsteady grin, while Pomfrey looked over Harry and Hermione. "A bit of shock, the same as Mr Weasley," she announced, "you'll feel better after you've had a bit of rest and food."

Anything, Harry decided, if it would stop his heart from hammering.

While most of the staff checked the tower, McGonagall took the trio to the hospital wing, and then quickly left to write a letter asking for assistance to the Ministry.

"But Madam Pomfrey said it was only shock!" Ron wailed, though he didn't try to leave.

"You heard what Professor McGonagall said," Hermione answered, as Harry finally allowed himself to lose control and heave the food he'd ingested only a few minutes ago into one of the basins. "That was only a once-over. If whoever or whatever did that put a spell on the room - maybe some kind of curse, on the next people to see the body - then we'll have to be checked out thoroughly. Anyway, where would we go? Classes have been cancelled until God-knows-when, everyone's locked in the common rooms, and with this kind of murder, it's fairly likely that Hogwarts will be closed down."

"Yeah, but they said that about the attacks in second year." argued Ron, half-heartedly.

"Maybe, but unfortunately, whoever did this didn't leave a calling card, so no-one knows where to look." Harry pointed out despondently, filling a paper cup with water and washing the remains out of his mouth. "Until they find out exactly what happened to Trelawney, there won't be any clues."

"Plus, we'll have to be questioned." added Hermione. "I mean, we were the first ones to find her body, so the Aurors will want to speak to us - and they might even suspect us. Everyone's a suspect in a case like this."

Ron held his chin in his hands. "Brilliant. So the only reason we'll get to go out of Gryffindor Tower is to be interrogated by suspicious people who think we're psycho killers."

"I only said _might_ be suspected." Hermione snapped, "Besides, we were only gone for a few minutes from lunch - that wouldn't be enough time to kill somebody. And of course, where would we put the blood? We'll be put off the suspect list pretty quickly."

"But crossing _our_ names off won't make a dent in the list." Harry pointed out, "I mean, it would take powerful Dark Magic to do that; most likely it's someone from out of school."

Ron perked up considerably. "It could be Figg! We don't know how powerful she is!"

"Yeah; except for the fact that she was at dinner with us." Hermione sighed. "I don't know... I'm really starting to get the feeling that it was a Death Eater, or someone from out of school. But why would they want to kill _her_?"

"Maybe they need the blood of a Seer for a spell, or something?" Harry volunteered, but then they were silent.

---

Not even ten minutes later, a horde of about forty Aurors were staking out the school, wands at the ready and scowling grimly and dramatically at any ghost or portrait they came across.

First, Ron was pulled away for twenty minutes into McGonagall's office, where he was presumably questioned; Hermione and Harry kept themselves busy by watching out the Hospital Wing's window as Mediwizards took the body on a long stretcher covered with a white cloth to a Portkey just outside the entrance.

What was more interesting, however, was when a group of black-robed and cloaked wizards and witches appeared on the grounds, heralded by the '_whoosh_' of another Portkey that they were all touching. They had some kind of symbol on their cloaks, fastening it to their shoulders, but from so far up, the pair couldn't make out what they were.

"Unspeakables." Ron informed them, making Harry and Hermione jump. "They want to speak to you next, 'Mione. It's nothing much - we're only witnesses, not suspects."

It took only about fifteen minutes for Hermione, though Harry was surprised it would take so long - after all, there wasn't much to tell, other than 'we went to Divination, we saw the body, we ran downstairs, we stood in the corridor and were sick'.

Finally it was Harry's turn to sit in the chair in McGonagall's office, opposite an Auror in the typical uniform.

"Drink this," he ordered, pushing a glass filled with some kind of bubbling, crimson liquid. "It'll improve your memory, so if there's something important that's in your subconscious, you'll remember it."

Harry obeyed him. The draught tasted like cucumber; Harry didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. "Right, then." sniffed the Auror, a man of about forty, tall and stocky. "Tell me exactly what happened from when you left the Great Hall, to when the teachers arrived."

Harry felt the potion taking effect on him; he could recall everything as it happened for the last forty-eight hours; going further back, it was a sudden blank; one second he remembered everything, the next he didn't have a clue what he had seen forty-eight hours and one second ago.

"Well," he started, taking a deep breath, "My friends and I - Hermione and Ron - had finished lunch early, and we decided to head straight up to the next class, Divination, because it takes a long time to walk up there. Everything was perfectly normal, except when we got to the top of the stairs, I saw that the window was open; it must have been opened a while ago, because there was barely any incense smoke left in the room, and usually you can barely breathe in there.

"There were red smears over the floor, like someone had dragged a paintbrush with a really thin coat of red paint across it, and some over some of the walls and furniture. Some of the desks and chairs had fallen over, and a few of the crystal balls were smashed, like there'd been a fight.

"I grabbed my wand, but I only pulled it out when I saw Professor Trelawney. She was lying on the floor, and was face-down - but we could see her face, because her arms were flung out, and her hands and fingers were outstretched like she was clawing at the floor. Her eyes - eyelids - were open, but her actual eyes were gone. There was dried blood around them, so they must have been torn out when she alive. Her mouth was open - it looked as though she were screaming, and her tongue was gone. There was some blood coming from her mouth, so she must have been alive when that happened, too.

"I pulled out my wand, then, and so did Hermione. I don't know what Ron did - he was behind us. I told the others we'd better get down, in case whoever had done it was still there, or we might have accidentally destroyed evidence. When we got down the stairs, they lifted back up, and Hermione told Ron to get Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey and Professor Figg. He left, and a few minutes later, the teachers came."

The Auror, who had been watching Harry as a bottle-blue Quick-Quotes quill took notes, gave a small cough, and asked, "What time did you get to the Divination room?"

Harry was silent for a moment. "Somewhere around twenty-five minutes past one." he finally guessed.

"Did you notice anything missing, or unusual?"

"No," said Harry, wondering why they were asking _him_. He'd only been in there for ten seconds!

"Right then, you can go." the man finally allowed, after staring at the boy for another half-minute, and making him extremely uncomfortable. "The potion should wear off in about fifty minutes." Harry leapt to his feet, and was led to Gryffindor Tower, where Ron and Hermione immediately pounced on him.

Pinning him between them, they shoved past the muttering crowds of students - who had no idea what was going on, apart from watching Mediwizards and Aurors out of the window, and were now making up the most ridiculous rumours - and marched him upstairs to the vacated fifth-year boys' dormitory.

"What _are_ you doing?" Harry demanded, confused, as Ron closed the door behind them.

"There's a lot of rumours going round, right now," Hermione told him, worried, "and a few of them, you're not going to like."

"Well, some people noticed that you were gone, and that the Mediwizards were carrying a body out, put two and two together - and came up with twenty." Ron explained. "Now, a lot of people think _you're_ dead - which is pretty simple to solve, all you have to do is say 'hi' to them. But others -"

"- remembered what you said about Trelawney." Hermione butted in, "and think; quite correctly; that the body was hers... and that either you were being questioned because _you_ killed her, or they think that you're a True Seer."

Amazingly, Harry managed to choke on thin air. "What?"

"Well, you made that prediction in Divination about her dying before the next new moon - and that's this night." Hermione looked uneasy. "I mean, Ron and I completely forgot about it, until Dean brought it up. But, I mean, it was just a joke, right Harry? You didn't _really_ see a vision, did you?"

Harry opened his mouth to deny it, but paused. After all, he _had_ seen a vision, hadn't he? All right, so it had been a forced one, and not of her dying, but of her as a child - but still... wasn't it a bit strange, a bit coincidental, that he had told her she would die before the next new moon - and she had died on the very day before it happened?

Hermione and Ron started to look fearful as Harry stood in silence. "You didn't really, did you?" Ron begged.

"I didn't see the future." Harry finally admitted, honestly. Yes, he'd had a vision - but only of the past. His friends seemed relieved by this confession, however, and Ron slumped thankfully onto his bed. "You had me terrified for a moment there, mate." Ron grinned, sticking his hands behind his head. "Talk about a coincidence!"

Hermione didn't appear quite so flippant about the subject, but she dropped it - Harry guessed that she didn't want to keep going on about it to him, as he was certainly going to be repeatedly asked about it by the others.

---

Ajax had disappeared twice each day to scavenge for food outside the Hogwarts grounds, though he was gone for less and less time now that Harry was secretly bringing him scraps of meat from his meals. Now however, he was perched on the canopy of Harry's bed, head tucked under one wing, and fast asleep.

It was Wednesday morning, and not only had the last lessons of the day and Astronomy been cancelled yesterday, the lessons up until lunch today were also cancelled - as well as this, no student was allowed beyond their common room, which meant that the students were stuck using the small house bathrooms that led off from the common rooms, and breakfast had to be served directly into he common rooms, where tables and extra chairs had temporarily been set up by Professor McGonagall.

Most students remained in the common room, swapping rumours and theories about who the killer was, and whether Harry was a Seer, but the Golden Trio fled for the safety of the boys' dormitory, where they whiled away the time by reading, playing chess and (for some reason, though they couldn't quite remember why) arguing whether Martin Miggs could win a fight against Minister Fudge.

In the afternoon, though, the Transfiguration teacher's voice could be heard throughout Gryffindor tower, with the help of a Sonorus spell; "All Gryffindor students," she ordered, "are to exit the Tower, where you will be escorted to lunch. When you have finished, you are to go to your classes as normal. Any classes taken outside will be inside the school, and no-one is to leave the building for _any_ reason. Those with Divination will go to either the library, or to Gryffindor Tower."

"They're being thorough," Ron said, impressed, as they grabbed the books they would need for the coming lessons. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, they would _have_ to be, wouldn't they? I mean, there _is_ an insane murderer around the school, after all."

"Yeah, but they've finished putting the extra warding up, now." Harry pointed out. They joined the crowd of students outside the portrait, and there were quite a few awed glances at Harry. "The only real problem would be if the murderer wasn't a Death Eater, but was someone still inside the school."

Hermione shuddered. "Harry, don't talk like that," she reprimanded him. "That's too terrible to even think!"

They were interrupted by Ginny squeezing in next to them. "Harry, did you rea-"

"No." Harry said immediately.

Ginny looked annoyed. "Actually, I was going to ask whether you'd read the Familiar book I gave you."

The scarred boy had the decency to looked embarrassed. "Oh. Right... sorry. Yeah, I finished it."

They began to follow McGonagall, who led them down to the Great Hall, ignoring the excited chattering of the many students behind her. "By the way, what are you wearing, Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly, and Harry remembered what else he'd put on that morning. "It's the wand holster that Percy got me for my birthday," Harry explained. "I thought that if we _were _attacked, it would be a lot faster than pulling my wand out of my pocket."

---

Lunch was certainly unusual; the students couldn't help feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the many Aurors stationed at the doors, each with a hand close to their wands. Harry promised himself to learn some new spells for defence, and finished his food as quickly as he could.

The last two lessons were two-hours worth of COMC, which (as students weren't allowed outside) meant following Professor Grubbly-Planks to one of the (usually disused) classrooms, where the students simply read and completed the questions in chapter twelve. The hive full of shock-bees they were meant to have been studying, was left by Hagrid's hut, where its inhabitants eagerly buzzed around it, occasionally releasing tiny sparks of electricity.

Harry had to admit though, it wasn't as though there had been much time to prepare for a change of lessons; the teachers had all been questioned, had helped the Aurors in setting up new wards, and had to deal with the shock of a colleague's murder, as well as keeping to the lesson plan and making sure the press stayed off Hogwarts grounds - so far successfully, although Harry doubted they could be kept away for long.

When Harry returned to the dormitory, he pulled the curtains around the bed, and switched his laptop on. He was disappointed and strangely surprised to see that no-one else was on; it seemed as though every time he had logged on previously, someone was on the Chat. It wasn't strictly true, but it still felt like it.

Clicking on to the Learnings section, Harry continued to the Search page. When the small boxes appeared, he typed in '_power, blocks_', selected the box next to it to search only in the spell section and pressed enter.

There were forty-six matches; Harry skipped the ones to create, strengthen and see past blocks, heading straight for the ones that removed them. There were eighteen of these - six of these he skipped outright, because they created such stunning displays as a side-effect that everyone within a mile would come running. He decided against two more, because they were only temporary, and bypassed another three because the blocks would come down over a period of time, lasting about four weeks before disappearing completely.

That left seven possible spells; Reading quickly through the incantations, Harry narrowed it down further to just three. After picking his way through them for another ten minutes, he finally decided on one.

With the block on, he would have to be at least an Apprentice to cast it, which was perfect for Harry, who was a Wizard. Listening for sounds of approaching footsteps, Harry reached for his wand, remembered he didn't need it for Techno-Magic, and concentrated on the words and their effect. "_Kalas ten liasoh nairn liaso et, kalas ten gail nairn gal_," he repeated aloud, not having a clue what he was saying.

He waited.

He waited.

He waited some more.

"Is something meant to be happening?" he asked aloud, impatiently. He didn't _feel_ any different! Re-checking the spell instructions, he found that there wasn't anything to tell if the spell worked - until you actually checked your power level and saw whether there was a difference.

Harry slipped off the bed, unlocked his trunk, and pulled the Charmometer from one of the compartments. "_Appareo spiritus numero_." he said, remembering what Neville had said. As he finished, the sphere faded to pale white; bright white; silver; grey; and then, unlike the last, it changed again - to a grey-blue, and then to a turquoise.

It had made five changes altogether; Harry had somewhere in the region of five-hundred points of magical power, nearly twice as much as the average Wizard. He knew it was shallow, but somehow he couldn't still help feeling a little disappointed. If he was the Phoenix, the Boy-who-Lived, the Tri-Wizard Tournament winner and Hogwarts' Golden Boy - shouldn't he be somewhere in the thousands, rather than an Illusionist of five hundred?

Berating himself for being superficial and self-important, Harry returned to his laptop and closed the Learnings screen down. To his surprise, however, there was a tiny beep, and a message box sprang up. 'Levina wants to Chat' it told him. His curiosity got the better of him, and though he had no idea who Levina was - not another Techno-Mage, that was for sure - he double-clicked on the message.

The Chatroom came up as usual, with the unknown Levina the only other occupant. _Hello, Harry. _

Feeling his strangely warm necklace with one hand, Harry typed with the other. _Who are you? _

_Someone with something important to tell you_, Levina wrote back. _Can you get to Hogsmeade tomorrow lunch? _

Harry paused. It didn't sound like a trap, but then again... and besides, what if this was the murderer? After all, how usual was it that after an apparently culprit-less murder, a stranger contacted one of the only witnesses, with no explanation why? _I can't._ he wrote back; _There's been a major event here. We're not allowed out on our own. _

Levina took a while to write back to that one. Finally, the words appeared. _A murder? _

The boy's heart beat faster. _How did you know? _

_Then it's much more important to talk to you. I have to meet you as soon as possible. _

_Why not tell me now? _

_There's some things you have to hear in person. What I have to say isn't something you can just tell someone who isn't in front of you. If you can't come to me, I'll have to come to you. I'll find you at four o'clock tomorrow. _

With that, Levina logged off, and Harry was left with a hundred more questions, and no answers.

---

Lessons continued much the same way the following day. The Gryffindors were collected from their Common Rooms for breakfast in the Great Hall, led to their first lesson by whichever teacher was taking them for the first lesson (in the trio's case, Professor Flitwick), after which was a supervised break in either the library or the Tower.

For the Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years, the next lesson was Defence Against the Dark Arts, which found Professor Figg strangely subdued. In keeping with her story of her daemon capture, she was now teaching about the Equus Daemon. For this lesson, she had brought in a huge pincer from the young one she had imprisoned, which had been cut off by one of the Aurors who had been first on the scene.

As the students passed the appendage round, 'ooh'ing and 'ah'ing over it, Figg motioned Harry to follow her out of the room. Once they were in the corridor, she shut the classroom door behind them, and looked at him seriously. "Harry, I'm not going to mess about and be subtle. This is a very important matter - and very dangerous. I know you were one of the first people in the Divination room, after-" She cut off here, and gave a small cough. "After lunch two days ago. I know you probably weren't focused much on looking around, but did you notice anything missing?"

Harry's mind remained blank. This was the same question the Auror had asked him, and he didn't have a clue why Figg would be asking him. "I didn't _notice_ anything gone, but I wasn't really concentrating on that." he finally volunteered. "What sort of thing might have been missing?"

Figg paused, then sighed. "I'm not going to beat about the bush, here. Did you see my Myrrh Cage while you were there, or was it already gone?"

Harry's heart seemed to stop. The Myrrh Cage! Had someone taken it, or had Trelawney hidden it somewhere safe? "I didn't see it in there," he replied, cautiously. "Do you think that's why Professor Trelawney was attacked?"

The teacher shrugged tiredly, and Harry noticed small bags under her eyes. "It's a good a reason as any. Of course, whoever killed her could just have seen it as an expensive jewel, and taken it to sell. More likely, it was the only reason why she was killed - you remember what I said when I first showed you all the Cage?"

"That it would be easier to release a daemon from a cage than to Summon one?" said Harry, casting his mind back. "So you think someone's going to try to release a daemon?"

"Or more than one, if we're particularly unlucky." mourned the teacher. "Look, so far there's no clues to the identity of the culprit, which means that it's more than likely that the Dark are behind it-"

"The _Dark?_" Harry yelped, shocked. "Dumbledore didn't tell me you knew!"

"I'm an Unspeakable," she replied, exasperated. "My job's to prevent Forbidden Magic, which includes daemonic spells and daemon summoning. I've already called in a group of colleagues to assess the situation, but we're getting nowhere - and we can't ask around, because it's classified information."

"What's this got to do with me?" Harry enquired, wondering why all this 'classified information' was being given to him.

"Because," Figg pointed out bluntly, "if this _does_ have to do with the Dark, most likely _you're_ the target, which means you have to be on your guard because there isn't going to be any warning if an attack comes. We've already pulled up the files on which daemons were inside it, and they're not pretty; the one I caught slaughtered nearly forty people, and that was nowhere near as dangerous as any of the rest."

Harry felt a particularly nasty lump in his throat, and swallowed nervously. "What's inside it?"

"Going back from the most recent to the first," Figg brusquely answered, "there's the young Equus Daemon; then a particularly nasty Aetas - they can slow down time, so you don't want to mess with _that_ one; a Saevus, which basically look like a Siberian tiger; two Volucris, one of which wiped out a whole town a few centuries back, and a Cataegis, which are made of air, so if that's one's released, don't bother trying physical attacks."

Harry shook his head, feeling sick. "Are you all right?" asked Figg, peering at him. "You've gone white."

"I'm fine," Harry excused himself. Figg nodded, looking unconvinced, and led him back into the classroom.

---

The Divination lesson was spent in the library, overseen by Madam Pince and Professor Clayton. Instead of the usual whisperings, there was only dead silence; everyone was uncomfortable with the reason they were there.

Potions was a slightly more noisy affair - the adding of snake skin caused their potions to send out bright red sparks, which whizzed around the room before fizzling out.

When the students retired to their dormitories, Harry's thought returned to the strange Levina the previous night. Who was he or she? Perhaps more importantly, what did they mean by meeting him at four o'clock? Checking his watch, Harry discovered it was already ten minutes to four, and decided it was probably time to bring out his father's invisibility cloak.

At one minute to four o'clock, Harry was waiting in one of the unused classrooms, counting the passing seconds. He held the cloak, ready to whip it over himself if he heard a teacher coming - or Filch, who was rumoured to be prowling every room in the castle after the murder.

A rustle by one of the windows alerted him to another presence, and he swung round to face the intruder, hand going for his wand. He stopped when he realised that the noise was outside the window - and made by Ajax, who was fluttering madly as he tried to get in, glaring at Harry with beady eyes.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry strode over and unlatched the window, opening it enough for Ajax to enter. "I don't know what you're doing here, but you're welcome company," Harry muttered to him, as the bird perched on his arm and preened his feathers importantly.

"I hope the same can be said of me," a woman's voice came from behind them, and Harry spun back around.

"Who are you?" he snapped, before realising how stupid the question was. He calmed down slightly. "Are you Levina?" he asked, a little more politely. The woman nodded, looking amused at his outburst.

She looked to be in her early twenties, with long, straight red hair hanging loose to just below the middle of her back. Her skin was a colour that looked like she was tanned, but it looked as though it were natural - the only thing particularly strange about her were her eyes, which were as gold as the Gryffindor lion.

"I would have met with you in a better location, but I had to move my plans forward when I learned of the murder." Levina said, smiling softly, and not in a particularly reassuring way.

Harry moved his hand slightly closer to his wand. "What plans?"

Levina sighed. "My plans to meet you. Really, do you have to be so suspicious? I'm here to help you."

Harry shrugged, and didn't move his hand away. "When I see some proof of that, I'll stop being suspicious."

"Fine," the woman said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "I suppose you want some explanations."

"That would be nice," Harry said dryly, and the intruder smiled in amusement.

"This generation really _is_ impolite." she mused. "Here are the basics;" She walked over to one of the dirty chairs and pulled a face before muttering a cleaning spell, and sitting down. Harry reached a little further for his wand when he saw the use of wandless magic, but stayed where he was.

"Over five thousand years ago, the Dark started conquering neighbouring kingdoms, and moving on to the next. I suppose you've had the whole account from your headmaster?" Harry nodded is reply, and Levina continued. "I was there, at that time. I was an Atlantean ambassador to the Wizards of Britain, and one of Merlin's friends and assistants. I was also his creation."

Harry's mind reeled. "Creation?" he coughed out, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Levina clarified, "I am an android, and the prophecy you heard wasn't the entire one. There's six lines that are missing from it - and they're pretty damned important."

_My mind is returning, just as my freedom has. I remember the outside as it was before... when I was Higher. I will be Higher again, once I make them pay. Yes! I'll make sure they know what they put me through, once I've freed myself. This slavery is better than the last - I can eat, I can be warm, I can move... but it's still slavery. I'll make my captor pay too, with the blood of their loved. But first I have to raise my strength - and the boy over there would be a perfect meal._

Draco Malfoy, heading to the Slytherin Common Room from the library, was too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice a figure moving almost silently behind him, tasting the air in hunger...

_Hunger?_


	6. Chapter 6: Light

Chapter 6: Light  


"I don't know anything for sure, but I'm going to find out if I can." - The Green Mile

Harry's mind raced through as much of the prophecy as he could remember. "Six missing lines? Where?"

"Right at the end of the prophecy," Levina said briskly. "They're nothing to do with you being the Phoenix, though - they're something else." She crossed her legs and brought out a wand from where it was held to her robe with the cord, and began picking imaginary dust off it.

Harry frowned. "Well? What are they?"

Levina looked up in mock surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry? You want to listen to me now?"

"Very amusing," Harry said, glaring at her. "Yes, I do. I apologise for nearly pulling my wand out on you, but since there was the possibility of you being a mad, insane killer, I thought it might be for the best."

"Well said." Levina grinned, and tucked her wand away again. "Talking of mad, insane killers, I think I should tell you about the murder before I recite the missing lines. Yes," she said, noticing Harry's look, "I did know there was going to be a murder, but I thought it would be at least a few weeks before it actually happened. It seems that the idiotic girl decided to rush into things before thinking them through. No wonder she was made a Gryffindor," she muttered as an afterthought.

Harry petted Ajax absentmindedly. "What idiot girl? The murderer?"

Levina snorted. "Goddess, no! That little brat couldn't kill a Kneazle with a Killing Curse. I'm talking about the daemon she got to do her killing for her - though I'd have thought you'd have figured _that_ out by now."

Harry almost slapped himself. Of course! It was so obvious now that he looked back on it! "You mean it was a daemon that killed Trelawney? One that was released from the Myrrh Cage?"

"Exactly," the woman nodded. "First she managed to contact one of the daemons inside the Cage - that wouldn't be too hard if you knew how to do it, Myrrh Cages can be used to do a lot of things besides just _imprisoning _the daemons. She must have struck a deal with it - agreed to give it freedom if it gave her something in exchange - of course, I don't know the details, but from what I've seen and heard it looks like it have promised servitude in trade."

She paused before continuing. "I don't know how much you know about daemons, but when they're put into a Cage, their food - the blood and flesh inside of them, the contents of their stomachs, fades away as they use it up - but daemons can't die in the Cages, even from starvation, which means that if they _do get out, they're starved, violent and ready to sink their teeth into any flesh nearby. From the looks of things, the Summoner had a nice meal all ready for it; your Divination teacher."_

Feeling sick to his stomach, Harry inclined his head to show he understood. It all made sense, after all.

Levina wasn't finished. "The only problem is, it takes more than just one human to fill a daemon up after they've been famished for Goddess-knows how many centuries. Which means," she said, looking at Harry pointedly, "it's going to hunt again. And soon."

Now Harry felt _really_ sick. "When is 'soon'?"

"Probably some time tomorrow - if it's one of the earlier ones that was locked up, maybe before then."

"Wait a minute!" Harry suddenly yelped, nearly losing his balance as he leapt forwards. "You said it was a Gryffindor girl who Summoned the daemon! If we can catch her, we can find out which daemon she Summoned, and we'll know how to trap it!"

Levina raised an eyebrow. "Who said anything about _we_? Look," she said, sighing, "if I start going to the authorities to tell them about a daemon going around killing people, and the fact I know an awful lot about it - do you really think they're going to say 'Thanks for the info, we'll check it out'? Of course not! They'd arrest me, accuse _me_ of murder, assume I'm working for the Dark, and kill me. Or if I show that I'm an android, they'd take me apart to study me. Personally I don't want either. I might only have _artificial_ intelligence, but I don't have _real_ stupidity."

"I didn't mean the authorities. I meant what I said - _we_." Harry said determinedly. "Look, you have all this knowledge, I can back it up with my Familiar and some Techno-Magic - oh bugger!"

Levina waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't panic about a little slip of the tongue. I know all about Techno-Magic; heck, I was created with the first small part of it, and I practically created the rest. And no, I'm not going to tell you how: you'll have to wait 'till you're older."

Harry gave her a mock glare. "Okay then, oh wise one. But my point still holds. I'm sure we could grab whoever it is and trap the daemon again. Just who Summoned it?"

Levina looked exasperated. "It's not that simple! Firstly, we'd have to get proof of her. I'm sure that if she's smart enough to plan all this, she'll be smart enough to create the perfect alibi, and I don't think the Resistance would react well to having their prized Phoenix suddenly accused of being a paranoid nutcase.

"Next, we'd have to find the Myrrh Cage, because once a daemon's been trapped in one Cage and escaped, it can only be either killed, or sent back to its original Cage. And _then_, even _if we managed all that, we'd still have to find the thing _and_ create the pentagram _and_ weaken it enough to actually trap it. And do you think that's possible, when one of the partnership doesn't legally exist, so she can hardly go down the library and do some research, and the other is being kept watch on by just about everyone from the Dark to the media to the Resistance - not to mention just your dorm-mates!"_

"It's still possible." Harry said stubbornly. "Perhaps we could figure out a way if you told me who it w-"

"No!" snapped Levina finally, standing up. "Look, I didn't come here to lock away the bad guys and save the day. I came here to tell you the last part of the prophecy, I came here to train you - _not_ in fighting daemons, but in fighting the Dark - and I came to fulfil Merlin's last request of me, which was to seek out the Phoenix and make sure he lived long enough to face the Eclipse!" She stalked over to the door. "You'd better get back to your dormitory - it's past curfew. I'll see you again tomorrow at nine PM - come back here."

And with that, she whirled around and stalked out of the door before Harry could get another word in. 

The scarred boy had a lot to think about as he made his way across the corridors under his Cloak; who the Summoner was - which daemon had been released of the six Figg had told him about - what the missing lines were - and what was the Eclipse (plus, where'd Ajax gone - he was sure he had been sitting on his shoulder before he put the cloak on)? Harry couldn't help but heave a sigh. Life was getting stranger every day, he mused, but stopped when he heard a thud and a hissed swear-word from behind a door just behind him.

Harry's blood turned to ice. Slowly turning around, he crept over to the door. Yes, there was another student hiding in the room. The Summoner, giving the daemon orders? It was unlikely, and it would be stupid to go in, in case it _was - but Harry was a Gryffindor, famed for their stupi- sorry, bravery, and taking his cloak off and gently turning the handle, suddenly pushed it open and rushed in, earning a broom over the head for his troubles._

"Ow!" Harry yelped, his head feeling as though - well, as though someone had hit him with a broom handle.

"You?!" Draco Malfoy said in incredulity, before pulling the door shut. "Quiet, Potter! That thing's probably already figured out where we are, with your screaming."

Harry glared at the boy, rubbing his head. "_Me_? I seem to remember it was _you_ who hit me with a broom in the first place! You should be blaming yourself. And what 'thing' are you on about? Scratch that, what are you doing in here anyway?" Here, Harry saw, was a small room, filled with cleaning equipment. It was nowhere near small enough to be a cupboard, but it was still a far cry from the spacious classrooms. Harry wasn't sure how it was lit - there were no windows or lights - but it was easily bright enough to see in.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I was walking back to the Slytherin Common Room about an hour ago, when I Felt someone behind me - someone _hungry_. And this wasn't 'I'm sneaking down to the kitchens' hunger, this was 'crazed blood-lust' hunger, which didn't exactly reassure me." At Harry's blank look, he groaned. "I'm an Empath. Dumbledore mentioned it up when we were talking about those Dark guys."

"I remembered!" Harry defended himself, having completely forgotten. "So what happened next?"

"I ran." said Malfoy bluntly. "I turned around, but they were faster - they'd hidden themselves in a second. Well, when there's just been a murder, and you've suddenly got a blood-thirsty stalker, I knew what to do. I ran to find a teacher, but everywhere I went it seemed to be right in front of me - I could Feel it, and every now and then, I'd see a flash of it slipping by. Then I ran up here, looking for a room where it couldn't find me - this thing was _no way_ human - and this door appeared in front of me. I figured it wouldn't find me in here, and it hasn't. That's it."

Harry swallowed hard. "Oh. Okay, I have some bad news, and some very bad news."

Malfoy paused. "What?"

"The bad news is, the thing out there is a daemon. The really bad news is that it thinks we're a midnight snack."

There was a moments silence. "Bugger," said Malfoy eloquently. "What's a daemon doing here?"

"Some moron released it from the Myrrh Cage, and it killed Trelawney," Harry muttered just loud enough for Malfoy to hear, and stuck his ear to the door. "I don't hear anything."

"Neither did I," Malfoy pointed out bluntly, "I'd be dead by now if I hadn't Felt it." He pulled a face. "Just imagine that; all the students walking down to breakfast and finding this dry husk of a Slytherin in the corridor, with no eyes, tongue or blood. Yuck."

"That wouldn't be very pleasant." agreed Harry, still listening. "Could you keep it down? I've got enough of a headache from being hit with a broomstick, and you're making it worse. Not to mention the fact that if it didn't know where we were at my yell, it's probably figured it out from your yammering."

"You're talking more than me!" Malfoy retorted.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am no- shh!"

Harry and Malfoy froze as there came a faint sound of something walking past the door. It stopped. It walked back to the door. The handle started to turn -

Levina got a broomstick over her head. "Ow! What the hell are you doing?!"

"Sorry," apologised Malfoy, lowering the broomstick. He swung it up again. "Hang on, who the heck are you?"

"Never mind him," Harry said, pulling the broomstick away from him. "He likes to hit people with sticks. It's a mental problem."

"Potter, the only one with a mental problem here is y-"

"What are you doing here?"

Levina raised an eyebrow. "That would be a question asked better of you."

Harry shrugged. "It looks like your timing was wrong again. It's hunting tonight, not tomorrow - it tried to kill Malfoy, and when I heard him hiding in here, I thought I'd go investigate. Then he hit me, and dragged me in here before the daemon noticed me and found us."

The woman snorted. "Brilliant. Well, _I'm_ here because Ajax followed me, and kept trying to make me come back. Looks like he knew you were going to need help." For the first time, Harry noticed the Familiar perching on Levina's shoulder, looking - though Harry didn't know how it managed it - amazingly smug.

"You found a good place to hide," Levina reflected. "This is the Room of Requirement - it only appears when you need something enough. What were you looking for when you first found it?"

Malfoy looked at this magically-appearing woman suspiciously, and shrugged. "A place where it couldn't find me. As soon as I saw the door, I just ran in and closed it behind me."

"Well, you needn't worry, then." Levina grinned. "If you wanted a place it wouldn't find you, then the Room would have masked you from the daemon completely. To it, the door would have been invisible, your scent gone, you'd make no noise - it would be like you'd disappeared off the face off the Earth. The only reason Harry and I managed to find you is because you didn't _not_ want to be found be anyone else."

Malfoy nodded impassively. "That's all very nice," he said sarcastically, "but how are we meant to get back to our dormitories without getting - oh, I don't know - torn apart and the blood sucked out of us?"

Levina glared at him. "Just _need_ a passageway back." she snorted, and turned around to leave. Ajax hopped from her shoulder to Harry's, as the door closed behind her. "Well, that was a load of help," Malfoy snapped. "I'm guessing that was a friend of yours, Potter?"

"Not a clue," said Harry brightly, "but you might want to look behind you."

Malfoy did as Harry said - and just as Harry had willed as Levina had left, two doors decorated with a Slytherin and a Gryffindor crest, respectively, were situated on the wall behind them.

"You can stay here, but I want to get some sleep," Harry added, before opening the Gryffindor door and walking through into the boy's dormitory, where he hid the Cloak, pulled his pyjamas on and slid into his bed, falling into the same deep sleep which had captured the others in the room. 

"Where were you last night, mate?" Ron whispered urgently at the breakfast table. "I mean, I managed to stop Dean, Seamus and Neville from telling the teachers you were gone - I figured you'd sneaked off somewhere - but when you didn't come back I was starting to get worried."

_Not worried enough that you stayed awake, though, Harry grinned mentally. "Mrs Figg gave me some information yesterday, when she took me out of Defence - the different daemons that were in the Myrrh Cage. She thinks that someone stole the Myrrh Cage, and Summoned a daemon from it to kill Trelawney - I was just in the library, looking up some info on the different types."_

Ron's jaw dropped. "A _daemon_? Loose in the school?"

Harry nodded, and moved up as Hermione came to sit at his other side - she'd been over talking to Ginny about the Ancient Runes lessons that Ginny had started taking. "What's loose in the school?"

"A daemon. No-one knows which type yet, but it's classified information." explained Harry, feeling rather important to know this. "I only know it because the Ministry think it was released by Voldemort to target me." he half-lied. After all, it was released, probably to target him - just not by Voldemort.

Hermione listened wide-eyed. "But, but... but they can't just... just keep it secret!" she stuttered, "That's incredibly dangerous! Even more than the Basilisk - it could kill half the school - they should be evacuating the grounds, not just sticking a few Aurors round to guard us!"

Harry shook his head. "They're probably specially trained - after all, why wouldn't _they have been told? They probably think it's a weak one, so they don't want to cause a panic by abandoning the entire school."_

Before the debate could turn into a full-fledged argument, the post-owls arrived, and two birds swooped down by Harry, carrying letters. A second wave of owls followed into the Hall, until nearly everyone had at least three letters; a minor panic followed in the air as birds tried to come in or get out, and by the time everything was sorted, Harry had six letters, Ron had four and Hermione had two, as well as her Daily Prophet.

As Ron and Hermione opened theirs, Harry also started to open his. The first letter was from Sirius - basically a warning not to get involved with anything, or to try and hunt down the murderer, because he had nothing to do with it. Harry nearly laughed at that - Sirius had no idea how much Harry _was_ involved.

The second letter was from Mrs Weasley, telling him to go to Dumbledore if he even _thought he was in danger._

Hagrid had written the third one - it basically told him that his 'business' was going well, that he'd been hearing rumours of someone being killed at Hogwarts - was there any truth in that? - and that a date for the wedding had been chosen, and he'd be honoured if Harry could be his best man. Harry, who had never been to a wedding, let alone as a best man, couldn't accept fast enough.

The fourth was an offer from the Daily Prophet for an 'exclusive interview' about the recent murder from the witness' point of view - Harry tore it up. The fifth was from Rita Skeeter personally, rather than from the Daily Prophet; Harry was about to tear that up, but remembered what Dumbledore had said about her working for the Resistance, and put it in his pocket to read later, when he was in private.

The sixth was from Gringotts; a monthly statement, now that his trust fund had been delivered, of the gold in his account. Harry was thankful for this; he had no idea how much money he had otherwise, and he had always wondered just how much was really in those golden piles.

He opened the envelope, and pulled the folded sheet of parchment out. Below the Gringotts' emblem, it said his the date; it was last month's statement - next month he would get Septembers' - his name, address, and then:  
_  
__Money put into account (July): __0  
__Money taken out (July): 40 Galleons  
Amount in account (July): __ __5682000 G   
__Interest - 4% (July): 227280 G   
__Total (July): 5909280 G _

Harry mentally added the commas that he was used to, and nearly choked on his Pumpkin Juice. _Five million, nine hundred and nine thousand, two hundred and eighty Galleons_?! He struggled to work it out in his head; that would be about... he finally gave up and borrowed a quill from Dean to scribble on the remains of the Daily Prophet letter... _fourteen million, seven hundred and seventy three thousand, two hundred pounds_! Give or take ten or twenty pounds, of course. But that would mean that - and he could barely get his head round it - he was a...

"Multi-millionaire," he murmured in disbelief, but his word was picked up by Hermione.

"What did you say, Harry?" she asked, putting away her own letter (it looked like it was another 'Daily Prophet Interview Offer'). Before Harry could think to hide his letter, Hermione was peering over at it. "A Gringotts monthly statement? What's s- WOW!"

Harry winced as Hermione grabbed the letter, and Ron covered his ears at the shrill exclamation. "Harry, is this true? I mean, this isn't a joke, is it?" she lowered her voice so only Harry and Ron could hear, "You're not really getting nearly a quarter of a million Galleons in interest _every month_, are you?"

Now Ron nearly choked on his drink. "What?!" he gasped, eyes wide, and made a grab for the statement, but Hermione was too fast. "Harry," she said seriously. "Do you realise how much this is?"

Harry nodded and referred to the piece of paper. "Just over fourteen million, seven hundred and seventy three thousand pounds," he quoted, feeling surprisingly calm. "Excuse me," he said, and fainted.

_Must be a new record, Harry thought when he woke up. _In the Hospital Wing after only nineteen days at school_. He ran the number through his head again. Yes, that was right - only nineteen days. It seemed impossible - how could all this have happened in nineteen days? Finding out the fate of the free world rested on your shoulders, the appearance of an android from Atlantis, some crazy person Summoning a daemon to kill you _- well, probably to kill me_, Harry corrected himself. __After all, it hasn't targeted me yet, so I don't know for sure._

Rubbing the back of his head, where it was hurting every moment; he must have hit it when he fell sideways off the chair, Harry remembered exactly what had happened. He'd fainted in the middle in the Hall, surrounded by the entire school. Bugger. He probably hadn't looked like the heroic saviour everyone was going to be counting on.

Noticing that Madam Pomfrey wasn't around, Harry reached into the pocket of his robes (it looked like the nurse had decided not to dress him in the revolting hospital gown) and pulled out the letter from Rita Skeeter. No time like the present, after all.

It turned out to be simply a quick message that any information the Daily Prophet turned up would be sent to him immediately, and not to give any interviews to any of the newspapers.

Harry tore it up and threw it in the bin by the door - it wouldn't do any good for Ron or Hermione to see that Rita Skeeter was writing to him - before opening the door to leave. Two wands pointed at his face stopped him.

Just as quickly as Harry froze, the wands went down. "Sorry, sir." one of the Aurors barked emotionlessly, his gaze fixed somewhere above and beyond Harry's head. "We've been stationed to guard you, in case the murderer was still around, sir."

"Er - right." Harry muttered, checking his watch. Ten minutes past nine - he still had half an hour of Transfiguration. Thanking his friends for taking his schoolbag up as well, Harry grabbed it from beside the door and fled down the corridor, leaving the passionless Aurors behind. 

Ignoring the Slytherins' sniggers, Harry made it through the rest of the day (Transfiguration, History and Magical Languages) with barely a mention of his embarrassing breakfast escapade.

At supper, Ron was perusing the Daily Prophet Hermione had received that morning; somehow, even though barely any details of the murder were known, and those that were known were classified, the killing had still made front page news. Unfortunately, the newspapers were doing this by making up the most unbelievable 'facts' possible to attempt to gain buyers.

The latest certainty was that Trelawney had been murdered by one of the other teachers, along with a House Elf, but the teacher was using blackmail against the Ministry to erase them as a suspect. Harry wasn't sure how anyone could believe this type of rubbish, but it was obviously working; the letters that morning had been from worried parents and relatives, and according to the stories going around, four students had already been pulled out.

"Listen to this!" Ron said suddenly, turning a page. "'_Tensions are high at the up-and-coming business of Leskey Incorporated, which today announced plans for its first large factory. Originally a small, family business restricted to special orders of magical items, there has been a recent boom in want for magical servitude, and many are rushing to cash in. Leskey Incorporated's new factory will be situated in the Scottish highlands, employing approximately forty Witches and Wizards in its first year, and creating half a thousand Golems a year. _

_"The plans have only just been given the go-ahead, due to the traditional paranoia about Golems, but Jeremiah Leskey had only this to say. 'I really don't see what the fuss is about. Golems can be bought and ordered about by anyone who buys them - you don't have to be a rich pureblood with a manor, like with House Elves. They're great for manual work because they're strong, they don't need to eat, sleep or socialise, and they'll do whatever they're told. I guarantee they'll be the only thing to own within three years.' _

_"The factory will be finished in early next year, but it remains to be seen whether Leskey Incorporated will be making a killing - or whether Leskey Incorporated's production line will be killed." _

"I don't see what all the fuss is about, with Golems." Hermione sniffed, slicing her ham. "They're not actually intelligent, so it would be a lot better to buy one of them than to have a House Elf."

Harry was confused. "What's a Golem?"

"It's a magical creature," Ron explained, lowering the newspaper. "They basically look like big, six-foot tall humans made out of stone or mud -"

"- Because that's what they are," pointed out Hermione.

Ron continued as though she hadn't interrupted. "They're hard to make, but once you have one bound to you, it'll do whatever you say. That's the problem with them; centuries ago, people used to order their Golems to kill their enemies, and they were used as really stupid assassins. So now, everyone's afraid of them; even though Leskey will be fitting all the Golems with spells to make sure they can't be ordered to hurt anyone."

"Of course, they're really expensive," Hermione added. "I think in all history there was only one person who ever had more than three, and he was a duke or something."

"Who didn't people just make them themselves, and have an entire army of them?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Because it takes a lot of power to make one, and even for those who could, there was a law that no-one could make more than two. The law was only changed a few years ago," Ron explained. "I mean, these Golems that are going to be made - well, they'll probably be made pretty cheaply, all you need nowadays is a mould and a lump of stone or mud. They'll probably be pretty expensive when they're in stores, though."

"Apparently, the cheapest - mud instead of stone, and less spells on it - will be about two-hundred Galleons; that's about five-hundred pounds," read Hermione thoughtfully, putting down the newspaper. "Well, I think this is pretty good. I mean, Golems aren't actually sentient and they don't tire out or anything, so maybe House Elves will have to do less work."

Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry quickly pretended to take a swig of his Pumpkin Juice. "But who would want a servant dripping mud everywhere?" joked Harry, "I can't imagine Lucius Malfoy putting up with it!"

"The mud ones are for outdoor work like building or gardening, and there's basic spells that dry the mud and make sure it won't fall apart." said Ron. He put his cutlery down, and got up. "All of the ones that work indoors would be stone. Tell you something though, Mum'd give her right arm to have one, once she finds out they're making 'em."

At nine o'clock that night, Harry made his way back to the disused classroom where he had first met Levina, glad that Filch was refusing to let Mrs Norris prowl the corridors after Trelawney's death.

Now, he had his questions drawn up - he knew exactly what he wanted to find out. Running them through his head to make sure he recalled them all, Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and settled down to wait.

_Firstly, he recollected, _who Summoned the daemon? Secondly, what type of daemon is it? Thirdly, how did Merlin create an android when computers were thousands of years away from existing? What were the missing lines of the prophecy? What was the Eclipse? How did she know about the Room of Requirement? Who_-_

His thoughts were cut off when Levina tapped him on the shoulder. Unable to control himself, he gave a jump, swung round and glared at her. "Will you stop just appearing like that?" he hissed, "You almost gave me a heart attack! I mean, I'm scared enough with a daemon on the loose, you don't have to make it worse!"

Levina gave a lazy smirk, which annoyed Harry no end. "Sorry, your highness." she teased, then frowned. "Actually, you really _are_ 'your highness' - you are the last remaining, direct descendant of King Merlin, after all."

Harry waved a hand, exasperated. "Then perhaps you could try to be a little more respectful, and stop scaring me? Okay, first of all, do you have any idea what type of daemon has been released?"

The woman sighed. "No, so we're going to have to do this by deduction. Do you know what types were in it?"

Harry nodded. "An Equus daemon - that's pretty young; an Aetas, a Saevus, two Volucris - and one that I can't remember, but it's made of air."

"A Cataegis?"

"Yeah, that's it." agreed Harry. "Which one do you think it was?"

"Well, we can eliminate the Cataegis, because it would be completely invisible, and I saw a glimpse of it when I was leaving." Levina mused. "The Saevus doesn't drink blood, it only eats flesh, so that's out... and the Aetas would have stopped time, and then devoured Malfoy when it hunted him last night, but since he had time to escape, it wasn't that. So that leaves either the Equus, or one of the two Volucris."

Harry nodded, storing the information away. "Okay. Next question; how did Merlin create you? I mean -"

"As I said yesterday, I'll tell you when you're older; or more specifically, when you're at the Techno-Magic Adept or Advanced levels, rather than Beginner or Intermediate. I'm not going to give you information you aren't ready for." Levina replied immediately. "Anything else?"

"How did you know about the Room of Requirement?"

She snorted at this. "Oh, honestly. I looked over the plans for the castle once I knew you were here - which I knew by tracing your laptop, by the way. I knew you'd be a Techno-Mage, so it was simple enough."

Ignoring the comment about her knowing he was a Techno-Mage for the moment, Harry continued. "What's the Eclipse? You said you had to prepare me for it, but you didn't say what it _was_."

"It's the test that's mentioned in the prophecy," she explained. "At the time of the ending of the test - the King of Serpents - there'll be an eclipse; it's been referred to as the 'Eclipse of Remembrance', because according to another prophecy - and no, you're not going to hear it unless I think you need to - the Eclipse will be in memory of the original fight that started it all, at the temple in Atlantis. Goddess know how, though; perhaps it will be on the same day, or in the same place, or something."

"But there _are_ no more eclipses this year," Harry pointed out, but Levina just shrugged.

"Maybe it won't _be_ this year, when it could just as well be next year, or the year after. Or maybe there will be; magic has a funny way of making unexpected things happen. Anyway, do you want to hear the final lines of the prophecy or not?"

"Of course!" Harry said immediately, sitting up straighter and making sure that he would remember it word for word. Levina settled down in her usual chair. "Now, with the rest of the prophecy, the fourth line rhymed with the second, and so on. But, in the last six lines, something went strange - every two lines rhymed. I think this was for a particular reason; that Merlin somehow knew these were to be the most important lines, and made them different to attract attention to them - unfortunately, they were lost, perhaps _because_ of their difference to the rest: maybe people thought that it wasn't part of the original or something, I don't know.  
"Anyway, these are the final lines;  
_ __But the Phoenix is more than even this;  
A power of the gods and goddesses.   
__Chosen as an avatar   
__Of the serpentine and war -   
__Guided by the future that was created in past,   
A divine power to forever last."_

She recited it once more so that Harry could remember it all, after which Harry frowned. "What does it mean?"

Levina shrugged. "Presumably, the 'future that was created in the past' means you'll follow the lines of the prophecy - but as for the rest of the lines, I have no clue. Merlin passed away almost immediately after that, and the Royal pendant was given to his wife, Queen Rona, as she was to become the next ruler. Of course, the pendant had to be left behind when the Royal family fled Atlantis, but still..." She shook her head and returned to the subject.

"Anyway, Merlin didn't stick around long enough to explain the prophecy, or add any more onto it."

Harry put his chin in his hands, and gazed thoughtfully at the floor, not really seeing it. "Well, forgetting that for now - who is it that's Summoned the daemon?"

Levina's expression turned to a glare, though it didn't seem to be directed at Harry, or anything in the room.

"That idiot, Leone Nikastal!" she snapped, clenching the arms of the chair tightly. "Goddess knows what she's doing - that moron knows perfectly well about the dangers of daemons, and she even knows about the Dark - you do know she's descended from one of the Atlanteans who managed to escape? - and they'd _love to get their hands on a daemon, without having to go through all the trouble of Summoning one themselves."_

Seeing Harry's puzzled look, she elaborated. "One of the rules of the war is that no-one is allowed to Summon daemons to aid their side in any way. However, if an unaligned person; such as an idiot girl - decided to Summon one, and they can capture it and command it, that's fair play. As long as they weren't the ones who actually Summoned it, they can do what they like with it, whether it be sending it to kill our leader, gathering information, tracking the Phoenix, whatever. Of course, it wouldn't be any better if the Resistance managed to capture it, but at least they wouldn't send it out to attack innocents."

"But I thought they weren't allowed to hurt anyone who didn't know about the Dark?"

"No - but if they say that it got out of control, or that it was another daemon that someone had Summoned, who could prove otherwise?" Levina stretched her arms in front of her, and rose. "Half an hour till ten o'clock. You'd best get some sleep; you have Astronomy at midnight tonight, don't you?"

Harry followed her lead, but paused. "But why would Leone _want_ to Summon a daemon in the first place? I mean, she doesn't work for the Dark, does she?"

"How should I know?" the woman asked amused, raising an eyebrow. "I may have more information about this than you, but I don't know _everything_ about it. Perhaps she decided to try some Forbidden magic, and it got out of hand. Perhaps she isn't even in control of the daemon. Perhaps she's gone mad. Perhaps she has some kind of ulterior motive. We could go on guessing all night, and tomorrow! No, if you're so insistent on stopping her and the daemon - and now that I've had a while to think about it, I admit it would be safer and better if they were stopped - then we don't have to consider _why_ it's here; we just have to figure out how to beat it."

Harry's hopes flared. "You're going to help?"

Levina mock-sighed. "I suppose I'll have to," she joked. "Look, I was told to train you, and I doubt I can get away with it if the school's closed down, and you're sent home. If we could get rid of it - and I'll _have_ to help you, because you can't do it on your own - then I can train you every weekend, or whenever. Besides, I suppose daemon hunting wound be pretty good training, hm?"

Harry grinned, feeling a lot better - if a little tired. "Thanks. Should I meet you here again?"

She shook her head. "No; I'll contact you in a while; for now, I need to sort out what I'm going to teach you, follow a few leads to figure out where Leone might be hiding the Cage, since I doubt she's stuck it in her trunk, that sort of thing. For now, go get some sleep; get to your dormitory by the Room of Requirement, then you won't be caught by the caretaker, the daemon, the ghosts, or whoever. You can make the Room appear by needing it, and wandering around for a while, or another way.

"Rap the space where the door appeared last time, and say 'Tonur amast carnaena'; it's an Atlantean spell to show magical objects or places, like the door."

After he'd said his goodbyes and left, Harry did as she said, stumbled into the dormitory, stroked Ajax, and fell into bed for a few hours, until he was awakened to go to Astronomy. It seemed that Ron assumed Harry had been researching in the library as he though he had the night before, because he didn't ask any questions. 

Saturday sped by, with (Harry was disappointed to find) no message from Levina. As there were no more murders, security was beginning to be relaxed, and everyone was feeling sure that it was a one-off; someone with a grudge against the teacher perhaps, or someone trying to prove a point.

Harry was a little uneasy about this - with only two-thirds of the Aurors remaining, and half the Unspeakables (who were disguised as Aurors, but Professor Figg pulled him aside and pointed them out, in case Harry needed to talk to them about the Resistance or the Dark, in which case he wouldn't be able to talk to the normal Aurors), surely an attack would be coming?

Harry was certain that if _he_ were a daemon, he'd happily wait an extra few days for food and have less chance of being killed, then attack immediately when security was tight, no-one asked for his opinion, and by the end of Saturday, only ten Aurors and two Unspeakables remained within school grounds.

On Sunday, while Ron finally thrashed Eric McMurphy in the semi-finals Chess tournament and Hermione started writing a pamphlet about why Golems should be used instead of House Elves (apparently she was going to give them out in Hogsmeade, though Harry couldn't see who would take them - except perhaps Leskey Incorporated, to help sales), Harry started learning some of the spells from the beginners section of Techno-Magic, and managed to successfully equip Ajax with a night-vision spell. He wasn't sure why he'd bothered; magpies weren't nocturnal; but at least it was practice.

On Monday morning in Magical Languages they continued learning Mermish, which Harry had found to be quite hard; not only did they have to learn both the above-water wail and the under-water speech, everything in the language meant something - whether it was the length, the pitch, the mouth shape, the tongue movement, or how much the eyelids were lowered when saying something.

Because of a speck of dust in his eyes, Harry got quite muddled, and instead of asking whether he was in a loch or a lake, somehow managed to demand a one-way trip to a Swedish sewage-treatment plant (Professor Clayton had hysterics at this, and had to be calmed down before he was able to explain to Harry exactly what he'd just said).

Defence fared better; the students were finishing off Equus daemons, and moving onto their third type, Saevus daemons, which as Levina had told Harry, only ate flesh, and was particularly fond of young children and babies, which had led to various unpleasant nicknames.

By the end of Mondays lessons, Harry still hadn't received a message from Levina, and was wishing he'd asked how long she'd thought it would take. Taking matters into his own hands, he kept a careful watch on Leone in lessons, noting that she was a pretty good actor - she looked just like any other of the Bulgarian students. He briefly considered asking Hermione to watch her when she was in the dormitory; the fifth-year Gryffindor girls did share a room after all; but decided against it, as he wasn't sure what reason he could give her.

At fifteen minutes past one on Tuesday afternoon, during a library session (it should have been Divination, but Dumbledore was still trying to get hold of a supply teacher; unsurprisingly, no-one had taken the job after the murder), Harry opened his textbook to find that somehow, Levina had managed to put a note inside.

Wondering how she had managed it when the book had been in his bag all day, Harry made sure no-one was looking, and began to read.

_Harry, it said,_

_Meet me in the Room at the usual time. I've found out a few things that we need to discuss. Bring Ajax with you. _

_L _

His curiosity piqued, Harry tore the note up and threw it in the bin. She had put a capital on Room, so she obviously meant the Room of Requirement - could she be starting his training tonight? But if that was so, why would she want him to bring Ajax? Shaking his head, Harry knuckled back down to his reading. 

Slipping down the corridor that held the door, Harry stuck his hand out of the Cloak and rapped on the wall, reciting the spell words that Levina had told him. They sounded familiar, now that he thought about it... oh well.

Clasping Ajax in his other arm, he opened the door as it appeared and slipped inside, releasing the bird and pulling his Cloak off.

The Room was no longer a cupboard; it was a huge room, far bigger than the Great Hall (how on Earth could it fit here? Surely the Charms room was over in _that corner), in shades of white and pale grey. The floor was white tile, with a light grey mat inset across the majority of the floor. In one of the far corners of the room, a large, oak cabinet stretched up to the ceiling._

Weapons that Harry recognised, and some that he didn't, hung on the walls or were lined up on stands - broadswords and spears, knuckle-dusters and staffs, daggers and bows, glaives and katanas, scythes and - he couldn't even name most of them. A huge spear, but headed with a intricately curved blade instead of a point, some kind of mallet like object, with a huge squared head and a short, stubby handle; he finally tore his eyes away, and looked at the rest of the room.

This was no less interesting. On the left hand wall, a pair of doors led off to an unknown place, and torches on the walls continued to flicker and splutter out golden-yellow light.

Harry was damned impressed.

"You won't be using all the weapons, so don't bother asking." Levina said sharply, but there was an amused hint to her voice as she stalked out from God-knows-where she'd been lurking.

Harry grinned. "You didn't make me jump that time."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "I must be losing my touch," she remarked coolly, as Ajax found a perch on top of a suit of armour that was carrying some kind of spiked ball and chain, that Harry vaguely remembered from one of Dudley's films - was it mediaeval? Roman? Something like that, anyway.

"As I said," Levina repeated, waving a hand in the direction of some of the weapons, "you won't be using all of them. For now, you're just going to be trained in the staff, sword and hand-to-hand combat, to prepare for most eventualities. If you get really good at them, you get to pick another weapon; until then, you're stuck with just them.

"Don't look so excited - you're not even going to be touching them tonight. You have Astronomy, and I don't want people to get suspicious about why you're so much more tired than everyone else; plus because of it, we wouldn't have much time for training anyway. I'm only going to keep you for a few minutes before you go back."

Harry's hopes fell. Not because of the weapons he'd be training with - he'd certainly prefer to start with the common skills before moving onto more exotic weaponry such as the ones that adorned the walls. Instead, he was disappointed that he wouldn't be training tonight, after his hopes had been raised so much.

"Tomorrow night, at the usual time." Levina promised, seeing his expression. "You need some sleep; you've been having some pretty late nights since you met me."

"Well, we haven't spoken in a good few days," Harry pointed out, but continued, "So, what have you found?"

"I knew that Leone had Summoned the daemon in the first place by the empathic signature around the school - Forbidden magic leaves a _big_ magical stain, one that takes a good few months to disappear, though the knowledge of how to find specific signatures was 'lost' long ago; it's in Techno-Magic, and a few old spell books, but no-one uses it. I-"

"Is that how underage magic is detected?" Harry blurted out, and Levina didn't glare this time; perhaps because it was a good question, rather than a meaningless interruption.

"Similar, but not quite." Levina explained. "Underage magic is detected through a magical signature, which as each persons is unique, allows them to see whose magic created the spell. Unfortunately, although Forbidden magic does _need actual magic, it only _uses_ will-power, which leaves an empathic signature that can be traced to the mind, rather than a magical signature that can be traced to the body._

"Anyway, I detected the empathic signature and traced it to Leone, which is how I knew it was her. However, I managed to refine my search for the epicentre of the signature before it faded, and I managed to find the exact source. The daemon was Summoned _in_ the Divination tower, where Leone must have left to go to dinner, so that she wouldn't be a suspect when the murder occurred, and the daemon must have lain in wait for Trelawney to enter.

"I managed to check the files of the Aurors here, and I found that something interesting had come up in _your_ interview, something your friends hadn't noticed. The windows had been opened for a while since you'd found the body, though they usually were closed."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, puzzled at the significance of this.

"I mean," said Levina triumphantly, "that a daemon could hardly risk wandering down from the tower and into the main part of the castle, when it didn't know where everyone was - it were to get spotted, it knew the alarm would go out, and specialists would be called in to kill it. Therefore - it left by the window!"

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. "Erm... all right, that is interesting... but how is that important?"

Now Levina really _did_ glare. "It was either an Equus or Volucris daemon. Equus daemons _can't_ crawl up walls. Volucris daemons _can_ fly. Figure it out."

Harry's eyes widened. "So it was definitely a Volucris!"

"Either that, or it was suicidal." Levina sniped cattily. "Now the question is, what happened afterwards? It _could_ be hiding out in a disused part of the school - it's certainly big enough. However, it hasn't eaten _here_ in the past few days, so it must e eating _somewhere_. Which means..." she trailed off, leaving Harry to continue.

"It must be somewhere close by - close enough that it came in and risked hunting Malfoy." said Harry immediately. "So it must be somewhere on school grounds... not inside the actual school... somewhere with prey - the Forbidden Forest!"

"Where better than a Forbidden Forest for a Forbidden creature?" Levina nodded. "Now the question is; do we want to hunt down the daemon and kill it, which would be damned hard, not to mention dangerous _and_ which would still leave Leone in charge of a Cage to Summon another daemon from - as well as the knowledge and experience to be more careful in the future - or, do we want to track down the Cage, fight the daemon; though we wouldn't have to kill it; trap it, _and_ have all the evidence we need to get Leone locked up?"

"Second option," said Harry immediately.

"Good," Levina grinned. "But I'm going to have to borrow Ajax for a while - just leave everything to me, and meet me here tomorrow night." 

Lunch the next day was a rather gloomy affair; rain was pouring down outside, and after History of Magic with the dull Professor Binns, and an unusually boring Transfiguration lesson (turn a quill into as many things beginning with 'b' as you can imagine - though there were some light-hearted moments, such as when Ron's flaming red hair caught the attention of Dean's newly Transfigured bull), the fifth-year Gryffindors were the most dismal of all.

Ravenclaw Quidditch practice had been cancelled due to the torrent, which had apparently flooded one of the dungeons when someone had left a window open (Snape was threatening expulsion to whoever had done it; probably due to this, no-one stepped forward to claim responsibility) and the lake was nearly bursting its banks.

Students skulked indoors for the free-time between lunch and the final lessons of the day, in the library, playing Exploding Snap, Chess, or Gobstones, trading Chocolate Frog cards (Ron finally got rid of his spare Agrippas, only to find to his dismay that he now had three Ptolemys) or, in the case of Fred and George, hiding from Filch, who was seeking revenge after Mrs Norris had somehow managed to become glue to the ceiling.

Harry couldn't manage to sneak away to his laptop to Chat or learn any new spells today, as Hermione and Ron stuck by him most of the time, though he wasn't too unhappy about this - he felt a little guilty about lying to them so much, and was only too happy to debate over the latest Quidditch news, and why Percy really bought a new suit; Ron suspected he was going to take Penelope Clearwater to a posh restaurant and propose, while Harry just thought he was trying to impress his superiors, now that he was second-in-charge.

COMC was inside once again - though due to the rain this time, rather than for safety reasons. Professor Grubbly-Planks finished up shock-bees, and now continued on to Chizfurples, which somehow escaped and got into Neville's wand, managing to eat part of the tip before anyone could catch them.

Leone continued to act perfectly innocently, showing no sign that she was, in fact, a psychopathic lunatic, and Harry almost considered shaking her by the shoulders and screaming 'Murderer! _Murdereeerrrr!_' before realising that if he did that, _he_ would appear to be the psychopathic lunatic, which wouldn't be good for public relations.

By evening, the rain had barely eased, seeming quite content to make up for the unusual heat there had been recently. As the curfew passed, and the students returned to the dormitories, Ron looked pointedly at Harry.

"Are you coming, or should I not bother waiting?"

Harry winced inwardly at that. "I still need to do some more research," he told his friend, "but I know for certain it's a Volucris daemon, now."

Ron looked a little relieved. "They're the easiest to get rid of, right?"

"They're common, but they're not easy to get rid of." Harry said. "Especially if it's one of the stronger ones."

Ron sighed mournfully. "Well, every piece of information helps," he replied, and that was that.

Harry took his time getting to the Room of Requirement, now he knew that the daemon was more likely attempting to hunt down Acromantulas, than to be stalking Hogwarts' corridors, after it had been so unsuccessful the previous time. When he finally slipped into the room, Levina was already waiting for him, Ajax on her shoulder.

"Did you have any luck?" Harry asked, setting his Invisibility Cloak down by the door, and then noticed the scowl on her face. "I guess not," he answered himself, and pulled a face of sympathy. "Well, a couple of days search isn't likely to bring much up. I mean, she might have sent it by owl to outside the castle, or something."

"True," Levina relented. "but I'm still annoyed. Right now, though, we have to get started on your training. To begin with you'll learn the basic moves of the sword. You can try with different types and see which one suits you."

After showing Harry how to stand properly so that he could react faster, how to keep his balance, and how to hold some of the common types of swords, Levina walked around the edge of the room, selecting different swords from the walls and the racks. It vaguely reminded Harry of Mr Ollivanders' wand shop, and how the owner had pulled dozens of wands out for Harry to try.

When she had finished choosing, a line of swords lay on the floor in front of Harry. A broadsword that Harry recognised from some of his history books before he came to Hogwarts, a katana that Harry knew of from when Dudley was eight years old and had fallen deep and hard into a 'Ninja and Samurai are the coolest things ever!' phase (which meant giving examples of martial arts, which mainly consisted of thumping Harry).

The other swords Harry couldn't name; a shorter, slightly curved one, one similar to the broadsword, but narrower and more elegant, and a vicious looking one that couldn't be Muggle, because its blade had tiny, sharp spikes sticking out of it. Harry felt sick just thinking how much _that_ would tear your insides.

"Don't go for the more attractive one, because you're going to make your own." Levina told him, whilst Ajax watched interestedly from a shelf holding twisted daggers.

Harry paused in disbelief. "_Make_ one?"

The woman brought out her now familiar glare. "I never said this was going to be _easy." she said coldly. "I never said you'd be an expert in a week, and take on an entire army by yourself. If you make a weapon yourself, before it's finished you can put a bit of your self into it - your soul, like a Familiar. That makes it even more powerful when you're the one wielding it, and it'll seem lighter to you and better balanced. If you try to put a bit of yourself into a weapon you haven't made, it won't work."_

Seeing Harry's despairing look, her face softened. "I don't expect you to be trained in weapons making as well. I'll guide you through it, but you'll still have to make it - only when you've finished your training, though."

Harry felt a little more relieved at that. He had no idea how to make a sword, but if it wasn't for a long time yet, it didn't really matter. Looking back down at the swords, Harry quickly ruled out the spiked one. He wasn't into torture, thank you very much, and that was what the sword would do.

Taking the curved one in both hands, Harry felt its weight. It wasn't particularly heavy, and had a sharp edge, which whistled through the air. There wasn't much point in looking at the detail - the shade of the blade, or length of the hilt - if he wasn't going to keep it, anyway.

Although it was well balanced, Harry felt uncomfortable with its curved edge, and the idea of bringing it down, only to miss because the enemy had already slipped away from under its short length.

The katana was extremely elegant, and quite light; but although Harry knew it to be strong, the blade felt flimsy and thin, as though it would easily break. Although he knew that of course this wouldn't be the case, Harry still felt uneasy with it, and put it down almost immediately.

The broadsword was comfortable in his grip, heavy but well balanced, the blade thick and strong. It was a powerful sword, but slow, and had barely any agility; and to bring it down with its full strength would mean raising it high, and leaving himself unprotected.

Putting it in his thoughts as a possibility, Harry checked the final sword. This was lighter than the previous sword and slightly thinner, having more speed and agility to the strikes, though not quite as much power to it. It was as long as the broadsword, with good balance and a sturdy blade with sharp edges coming to a smooth, needle point.

Slashing it through the air a few inches, Harry grinned at the swish of the air running past it, as though the air itself were being sliced in half by the glinting metal.

"Chosen?" Levina asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

Harry nodded his confirmation, and Levina stepped forwards and bent down to collect the other swords up as though they weighed nothing, and put them back in their places in racks and along walls.

After this, the woman opened the cabinet in the corner of the room that Harry had seen when he first entered the Room as it was now, and took from it a sword far more beautiful than the ones Harry had to choose from. It was a broadsword, powerful-looking, but its blade had tiny, needle-like spines pointing out every inch from the edge, rather than all over the blade, like the one Harry had passed up.

The blade and spines were a rich violet, and the hilt was of a black-marble dragon's head, not unlike a Hungarian Horntail, its dark snarl revealing black fangs. The only thing of the dragon that wasn't black were its eyes - two pure white pearls, inset into the sockets - and several red rubies set into its fangs, looking like drops of shimmering blood, each a quarter of a centimetre high.

Forcing his suddenly dry mouth to swallow, Harry stared at the sword. Was this her own sword? Had she really made it herself? Feeling amazed that anyone could create such a beautiful weapon - one even more elaborate than Gryffindor's own sword - Harry felt a rush of excitement that Levina would be overseeing his own sword.

The red-haired woman stopped a few paces in front of Harry and ran her finger lightly down the front of the blade, along the flat purple rather than the spiny edge.

"Atlantis was famed for its exquisite magic, art and architecture," Levina said quietly, as though she were talking to the weapon she was holding. "There, many things were considered an art-form, and many strove to reach perfection, in arts such as map-drawing, or sword-making. Much of Atlantean sword art has been lost over the past thousands of years, and the only books that write of the secrets are stuck in great vaults beneath the ocean.

"I learned blacksmithy, weapon-making, and fighting from some of the finest experts in the subjects; as an ambassador, it was dangerous to travel abroad, in a time when pirates, thieves and dragons were so common, and I had to learn how to protect myself fast - so will you." she ended, finally looking at Harry. 

Hermione sneaked into the Common Room almost silently, closing the portrait door behind her, before heading over to where Ron waited by the fireplace. "I went down to the library like Harry said he'd be, and he wasn't there," she said quietly but urgently. "You're right, Ron, he _is_ lying to us."

Ron looked worried. "I just don't get it. Harry's been acting weird for ages now - he hallucinated some woman at the Quidditch game we went to, he refuses to tell us why Dumbledore talked to him, he did that Familiar spell without even telling us, Professor Figg's happy to tell him everything about what's happening in Trelawney's murder investigation, he knows there's a daemon practically _before Figg does, and now he's sneaking off every night and lying to us about where he's going. But why?"_

Hermione looked, if anything, more worried than her friend. "I don't know. Maybe it's something he can't tell us - you know, secret information or something - or maybe... oh, I don't _know_!" She threw herself down into the chair and frowned. "He barely even talks to us anymore! I don't think he's going Dark; not a chance of _that _happening anyway, not with what he thinks about You-Know-Who - but I can't figure out _what's_ the matter."

"Well, it's obvious what we have to do then," Ron said immediately. "Just the same way we found out he was creating Ajax - next time he disappears at night, we follow him."

Hermione opened her mouth to disagree, but shut it as she realised that it would work. "Then he would _have_ to tell us everything," she wondered aloud. "Okay then, Ron. Next time he goes, we follow."


	7. Chapter 7: Darkness

Chapter 7: Darkness

---

Bartta's eyes opened wide. "Sorcerous work." - The Ring of Five Dragons

---

When morning came, and Harry (the last one in the dormitory) stumbled out of bed, muttering a curse word as he tripped over the sheet on his way out, it felt as though every inch of his body had been slammed at least twice with a sledgehammer by an over-enthusiastic giant.

The training had been exhausting, and all he had learned were a few basic moves - basic in Atlantean terms, where fighting, whether for show or even to the death, was an art, and with thousands of years of perfecting the arts had meant literally hundreds of thousands of moves. Although it was true that many of the moves were barely changed variations of each other, there were over a thousand types of lunges, another two thousand parries - Harry's head had gained a migraine when Levina had performed just twelve motions in quick succession, and expected Harry to repeat them exactly. He was seriously beginning to regret ever agreeing to this 'training', which should more correctly be called 'beating Harry up'.

They had fought with the scabbards on their swords, to avoid deep cuts (plus, Levina explained that her blade was hollow and transparent, filled with a self-secreting purple poison, that was released through the spines on the edges - and frankly, Harry didn't want to be fatally wounded on his first night of training).

The training took four hours, and Harry only returned to the dormitory at one thirty in the morning, bruises starting to appear. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain them away - thankfully the larger ones were on his stomach and chest, hidden by his clothes - so he'd spent another ten minutes that night looking for spells to either get rid of bruises or to heal, and another five muttering the spell over the more obvious and nasty- looking ones.

The lack of sleep had taken its toll, and Harry stumbled blearily down to the breakfast table with black bags under his eyes, hair sticking up worse than ever, and muscles tense, tired and aching. As soon as Ron and Hermione spotted him, their eyes widened in shock, before pushing up to the further end of the bench, so that Harry would have room to sit. "Are you all right?" Ron asked, worried as Harry almost collapsed on to the bench with only a groan as a greeting. Harry gave him a pointed look, and Ron realised that it had been, in fact, a rather daft question.

Harry pulled some gammon and pineapple onto his plate, eyelids threatening to drop, while Hermione brought out her wand and recited a few words that made his wild hair a little flatter and tamer. Now it only looked as though he'd been caught in the middle of an Erumpent stampede.

"Tell you what, why don't you read this?" Ron asked, aware of the tense silence as his friend expected them to ask exactly why he looked like this. He took a piece of parchment from beside his soup bowl, and passed it over to Harry. "Filch came round the tables this morning, giving these out. Apparently, no-one's been to look at the rules in his office, so he's given these out so people will know what they can't do."

Harry stared blankly down at the piece of paper. "This only goes up to rule fifty, but it says at the top that there's six-hundred."

"Oh yeah," Ron said cheerfully, "There's some kind of enchantment on it. The back's blank, but if you turn it all the way round until you get to the front page again - no, bringing the left side over to the right, not the other way - it gets to rules fifty-one to a hundred. If you do it again, it goes on to the next fifty, and you can go back by turning it the opposite way. Look, they've even got the list of forbidden items added on at the end - hey, I didn't know Creeping Custard wasn't allowed..."

Harry turned back to the beginning and scanned down the first few rules.

_Rule 1: No dragons are to be brought onto school grounds by anyone. (Yes Godric, that includes teachers.) _

Rule 2: No second-years or under may leave school grounds without permission from a teacher.

Rule 3: No attempted suicides in the lake.

Rule 4: No swimming unclothed in the lake (this means you, Worthington!).

Rule 5: No singing 'The Innkeeper's Daughter' or other impolite songs, sonnets or poems at the table.

Rule 6: No inciting Goblins or House Elves to rebel.

"Hey, did you know you're breaking a rule, Hermione?" Harry asked amused, and Hermione scowled.

"That isn't funny. Besides, I'm not inciting rebellion - I'm just trying to get them to have wages, and I hardly think that's the same as telling them to go burn down the school, or whatever."

"Yes," mused Ron thoughtfully, "but if you're telling them to do something that the majority of the 'ruling class' as it were - by which I mean Wizards and Witches - didn't want them to do, then doesn't it count as rebellion? I mean, for all you know, it could lead to burning down the school or Ministry headquarters."

"Ron? Shut up."

---

Harry managed to get through Charms without falling asleep, and took the entire fifteen minute break to catch a nap, feeling a little better when he awoke. Defence was continuing the Equus daemon, and still Harry, Ron and Hermione were the only ones who knew that the Myrrh Cage had been stolen - apart from Leone who, much to Harry's chagrin and was still acting maddeningly innocent. A sliver of doubt stuck into Harry's mind; surely no- one could be such a good actor as to order a woman's death, and not appear even slightly guilty - but he shook it away.

Divination and Potions, the final lessons of the day, Harry spent sleeping in the dormitory. The Divination post still hadn't received any applications, and Professor Snape was still overseeing the cleaning of the flooded dungeon, too busy to worry about the unimportant matter of helping students to pass their O.W.Ls.

Glad that he wouldn't be training until Saturday, Harry awoke at just before four o'clock, the bags under his eyes wonderfully lessened, and muscles feeling loose once more, though a bit stronger from all the exercise of the previous night. A note by his bedside told him that Quidditch try-outs for the Gryffindor team would be tomorrow at six o'clock, and that he was expected to be there to help judge.

After finishing their Transfiguration homework in the library, the trio had a brief debate over what to do, before settling on visiting Hogsmeade, where Fred and George hinted that they were thinking about buying a rundown building that would make a brilliant shop (Ron had said they didn't have any money, but the twins just grinned).

The sky of Hogsmeade was slightly more overcast than on the last visit, but it seemed even darker to Harry, when he suddenly remembered that he hadn't any money - it was all contained in his vault in Diagon Alley.

When he voiced these thoughts, Hermione scoffed, annoyed that Harry hadn't read a particularly boring sounding book called 'The History of Magical Currency' which apparently said that those who had accounts at major banks (such as Gringotts in Britain, or Dunneblakes in North America) could simply hand over their account keys to the storekeeper, who would immediately subtract the amount from the buyer's bank account. 'Much like a credit card', Hermione explained, which meant another eight minutes explaining what a credit card was to Ron.

The rest of the day was much more fun than the previous visits to Hogsmeade. Although he didn't automatically buy whatever he could, Harry now knew that he barely had a budget to keep to, and he also had figured out where the money had come from. Hadn't Dumbledore said that he couldn't give Harry all the money he should have rightly inherited from his ancestors, in case it attracted too much attention - and that he could have it now? All this was the money that his parents had left to him from their parents, and theirs, and theirs, and beyond, all contained in the trust fund that had been given early.

First, they sought out the empty shop that the twins had mentioned, and had gone into what seemed to be a Wizarding estate agents (though it was squashed in between two houses, and looked as though it only had two or three small rooms on each of its three floors) and had asked for the papers that held the details and photographs of the house, which Harry and Hermione had been quite excited by (though Ron was so used to it that he couldn't see what was so interesting), for instead of the typical few photos that Muggle ones had, there was two large photographs of the front and back of the building, and one huge photo on the final page.

This final picture was a moving one, and provided what looked like a guided tour of the house; just by touching the picture and running their fingers to the left or right, the view would turn around a number of degrees, and by tapping a door, it would seem to glide smoothly into the next room or up stairs.

Harry could see how the twins thought it would be perfect - the ground floor was two huge rooms; one large front, a back room the same size that could be used for stock, and a small room containing just a flight of stairs to the next level. The first floor (or second, as Americans called it) found the stairs open out to a wide hallway, with three rooms that could be used as bedrooms, a bathroom, and a final large room that could be a lounge. The final flight of stairs, up to the top floor, opened onto a corridor like the one below, which connected to five unspecified rooms, while also containing the entrance to the attic, which had been boarded up like the windows, though apparently it hadn't been opened in the last fifty years or so.

The building was outside, quite attractive, but on the inside, in a state of disrepair. The warnings for the house noted that some of the floorboards were rotten and would easily break, the handrails on the top flight of stairs were dangerously loose, the previous owners had suspected a wasp nest was somewhere inside one of the South walls, and finally that apart from all this, 'renovations might be needed', which Harry knew to mean 'it's a dump'.

This was proved on the guide picture, which showed the wallpaper was peeling/peeled off, the doors were rotting, their metal handles and hinges were rusting, the windows were boarded and broken, cobwebs hung gloomily about, the dust lay in layers about half an inch thick, and the carpets on the top two floors were so worn through that the floorboards could be seen beneath.

The building cost twenty-eight thousand, eight hundred Galleons, which Harry worked out to be in the region of about seventy-two thousand pounds. As he had only given the twins a thousand Galleons, which came to about two thousand, five hundred pounds, Harry didn't have a clue as to where they would get the rest of the money - take out a loan from Gringotts, presumably.

They searched through antique shops and second-hand shops, as well as modern shops like the apothecary, clothes shops, Honeydukes, and Dervish and Banges, and a suspiciously Dark looking shop, where Harry bought a small, silver hoop. Any key, whether it could usually insert itself onto a keyring or not, could be fastened onto it, and would immediately disappear, only to reappear when less than ten feet away from a lock it would fit into.

Harry also bought from the apothecary a small bag filled with various herbs, that specialised in helping sleep and erasing tiredness; the bag contained pinches of buckeye, camomile, hops, jasmine, lavender, passion flower, rosemary, and vanilla and peppermint, which apparently gave energy. It smelled strangely sweet, and the top of the bag was tied with a thin blue ribbon; the shopkeeper explained that blue symbolised sleep and rest, and so had some power within it - he also said that quite frankly, with so much 'sleep' power hanging about it, from all the herbs and the blue ribbon, he wouldn't be surprised if Harry never woke up, though this didn't stop him from selling it to him.

In case this didn't work (Hermione, Harry noticed, looked extremely doubtful that a fourteen Sickle bag could help him sleep better), he bought a bottle containing fifty rectangular grey pills, each about half a centimetre long, which eliminated tiredness, rather than helping sleep. These pills ('Oxtamed') were a little more expensive; four Galleons, about ten pounds - but Hermione looked appeased.

There was a sale at Gladrags (it looked like they were trying to outdo Madame Malkins' sale, which must have been losing them customers), and Hermione picked up a new set of dress robes, which unlike her periwinkle- blue ones, were more elaborate; more like a kimono than robes, a blue so pale that it was almost white, with a silver, oriental dragon reaching up from the bottom left to her right-hand side, just above her waist, as well as a matching pair of pale blue shoes with low heels, thin silver patterns running at the backs of them.

This reminded Harry to buy some for himself - it was likely that his old green ones would no longer fit - so he picked out a black pair with a small white, Celtic pattern, like a pair of lines entwining themselves into an elaborate, vaguely circular shape on his right side, on level with the lower part of his collar.

Ron bought a copy of 'Auror Testing and Training', the same book Neville owned, as well as pooling some money together with Harry to buy a large box of Chocolate Frogs - fifty of them were contained within.

Hermione was horrified by this, but as Ron argued, it meant they wouldn't have to buy any more for a long time, and as the box had preservation charms on it, they wouldn't have to worry about the chocolate melting, going off, or anything such as flies getting in, and the Frogs would last them for at least a month and a half.

"Plus, they've brought out a new lot of cards, but I don't think Hermione would accept that reason," Ron whispered to Harry when the girl had turned to admire a gold locket in a jewellery store window.

---

After stopping for dinner in the Three Broomsticks, they dodged past a group of sixth year Slytherins who had just come in, and hung around outside, discussing what to do next, which led to a two-to-one vote to visit the Quidditch store. The Quality Quidditch Supplies shop here wasn't as big as the one in Diagon Alley, but it still did a roaring trade; Shooting Stars, Comets, various Nimbus' and Firebolts sat proudly in their display cases, surrounded by kits for cleaning them and repairing them, Quidditch books, miniature models of brooms and players, balls, bats, padding, whistles, shirts and banners of various teams, signed photographs of the more famous players - anything Quidditch-related could be found here, packed between the five walls of the pentagonal store.

Packs of trading card games lay on the counter, and below them were racks of magazines; Ron dug out some money for a copy of Which Broomstick? and paid for it before beginning to read, while Harry looked over the banners, which also included ones for the Houses of Hogwarts - so that was where the students got the correctly-coloured flags to support the House teams. Harry paused at a particularly good poster of a Quidditch pitch from above, which included the moving teams, their faces barely visible, attempting to beat each other, while the crowd occasionally gave faint cheers and yells when their team scored.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Harry turned to see Ron, holding the magazine out for him to see on the 'News' page. Taking it, Harry began to read.

_Rumours Take Flight Along With The Latest Test Broom! _

By Bennett Berkley

Ellerby and Spudmore, the company responsible for the invention of the Tinderblast, Swiftstick and Firebolt, is now the centre of several rumours, sure to thrill the true broom enthusiast.

Over one of the Unplottable islands off the coast of England, which the company owns as a test site for its new products, a new type of broom has been spotted soaring. Made of a dark wood - likely to be oak or mahogany - this sleek and smooth wonder was seen racing against the Firebolt, one of the top sellers of the moment, and used by many professional teams.

Easily outstripping the Firebolt, this mysterious broom completed two laps of the small island before the its opponent had even finished one. Although the test rider could not be identified, many suspect it to be Luke Listerbill, the Chaser of the Falmouth Falcons.

But why would Ellerby and Spudmore hire such a professional, rather than using one of their own testers? Why, only because this broom would be too much for even most experts to handle!

Ellerby and Spudmore was unavailable for comment, except to release an official statement, saying 'If we were to be testing a new broom (which we aren't saying we are), then it would be top secret (which we aren't saying anything is) to prevent other companies from stealing the technology (which we aren't saying we have). Therefore, we can neither confirm nor deny the comments about the new broom (which we might not have).'

Although next-to-nothing is known of this broom, seen from too far away for the name or even type of wood to be seen, you can be sure that Which Broomstick? is investigating.

Harry was as impressed as Ron was. "It's over twice as fast as the Firebolt?" he said, agog at this speed. "I'm amazed they could even see it move!"

Ron nodded excitedly. "Just think how hard it must be to control - I mean, their test riders are well-trained, but to have to get a proper professional in? Tell you something, mate, it's going to be damn expensive - probably at least three-thousand Galleons. All the professional teams will be having them, though."

Harry handed the magazine back. "You know, if brooms keep progressing like this, soon no-one will be able to see the Quidditch players, they'll be going so fast," he joked, before pointing out the poster to Ron.

---

On Friday, Transfiguration was more interesting than it had been on Wednesday; the students were now learning the theory of the Animagus transformation, which the Marauders had mastered decades ago.

Unfortunately, this good news couldn't carry on to History of Magic, where Harry tested the Oxtamed pills by placing one on his tongue and letting it dissolve. It worked brilliantly - he didn't feel tired at all - but this had the adverse affect of making him sit through two hours of History without being able to get any sleep.

Magical Languages had a definite up-turn - Harry was one of only two (the ever-brilliant Hermione being the other, of course) to manage to get full marks on a mini-test they had that day, on the nouns and verbs of Mermish.

When they checked the Housepoints, they found that Gryffindor was coming in a close third; Ravenclaw was first, with two-hundred and ten points; Slytherin had one-hundred and eighty-five; Gryffindor one-hundred and eighty; and finally Hufflepuff had one-hundred and sixty.

As the trio moved to leave the Hall and the Scoreglasses, they found that their way was blocked by Draco Malfoy and his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle. Ron pulled his wand out immediately, while Harry and Hermione stood on either side, ready to grab their own wands if need called for it.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron snarled, and blond smirked.

"Nothing to do with you, Weasel. I want a word with Potter - alone."

Ron looked at Harry as if to ask him whether this was a ridiculous idea, and he should curse him now, or if Harry wanted to talk to him. Harry paused. "What do you want to talk about?"

Malfoy gave him a pointed look. "Broomsticks over the head, Potter."

Ron and Hermione looked at him as though he'd gone insane, while Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem as though they'd noticed he'd said something extremely bizarre. "Ah - okay." Harry agreed. Well, he might as well hear him out. "Er, Ron, Hermione - can you meet me somewhere?"

"We'll see you on the Quidditch pitch when you're done." Hermione said before Ron could butt in. "Come on Ron." She grabbed his wand, and pulled him by the arm in the direction of the exit.

"Crabbe, Goyle, sod off." Malfoy ordered, and the brutes stood still for a moment to process this, before nodding like the lackeys they were, and heading upstairs. Briefly, Harry wondered how they didn't fall down stairs.

There was no-one but Harry and Malfoy left in the entrance hall now and the latter crossed his arms and looked pointedly at Harry. "Explain." he said simply.

"Explain what?"

"Oh, I don't know - say, for example, how you knew there was a daemon, or what you were doing up that night, or who that woman was, or how she got into school, or whether the daemon's still running around here - any of those would do for a start."

Harry sighed and rubbed his head. "Well... since you know about the Dark anyway, I suppose I could explain."

"It'd better be good," Malfoy stated, arms still folded.

"Okay then." Harry said, glaring at the others' rudeness. "I knew there was a daemon running about the school because the woman - Levina - told me. I was up that night because she'd told me to meet her. I don't know how she got into the school, and yes, the daemon is still 'running around' as you put it, except it's somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. Levina is -" here Harry hesitated; if he were to say she was an Atlantean, Malfoy would demand to know how she was still alive, and if Harry explained she was an android, it mean telling him about Techno-Magic. He decided to play it safely, and tell a half-truth. "- a descendant of one of the Atlanteans. She's here to train me against the Dark, and is going to help me get rid of the daemon. Enough answers?"

"Yeah, but a piece of advice," Malfoy said coolly, "Don't bother trying to lie to an Empath." "I wasn't lying!" Harry denied hotly, another lie.

Malfoy snorted. "Oh, please. Most of that was the truth, but that 'descendant of Atlanteans' part was rubbish. But fine, if you don't want me to know, I won't pry - I just want you to know that I know you're lying."

Harry was pleasantly surprised by this - he had expected Malfoy to try and force an answer out of him. Still, if he wasn't going to demand the truth, Harry wasn't going to make him.

Malfoy nodded to him, before climbing the stairs that his two bodyguards had left by, and Harry made his way outside to the Quidditch pitch to meet with Ron and Hermione, and to judge the people applying for a place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. There was still ten minutes until the try-outs began, but several students were already sitting on benches, holding broomsticks and shaking from a mix of late September cold, and nervous excitement.

---

As his friends interrogated him for the reason he spoke to Malfoy and what the Slytherin had wanted, and Harry apologised for not being able to tell them anything, the rest of the Quidditch team - Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia and Katie - and Madam Hooch entered the playing area, and waved Harry down over to them.

"We have to find a new Keeper, and replacements for the substitute Beaters." Angelina announced. "Oh, and we have to pick a Captain, but we'll do that after we've chosen the new players."

The Keeper position, as the more important, was to be filled first; the first two applicants - both second-years, over-eager and excited that they were old enough to join a team - were appalling, and Hooch crossed them off the list without even having to ask the team what they thought. The third; a sixth year, was better, saving six of the ten shots, but there was room for improvement. Harry was surprised to see that Ron was the fourth, managing to block eight out of ten, and the fifth and final applicant was Colin Creevey, who blocked seven shots.

Ron was the clear winner, but the Keeper substitute (a seventh-year girl called Emma McPollet) came out and managed to block nine - she moved up to Keeper position, while Ron became the substitute.

One of the substitute Beaters was easy to choose, with an excellent aim, and good power in the arm, but the second was harder, as there was a draw between the two next best, and in the end the rest of the team voted for a third-year boy who, though prone to swinging the bat a little more than needed, could hit the ball clean from one end of the pitch to the other, though the twins still outstripped him.

It was ten minutes later, while only the team, the main group and the substitutes remained on the pitch, gathered together to congratulate the new players and elect a Captain, that a sudden rumbling was heard, and a herd of Unicorns raced across the pitch from the Forest, coats sweaty and heaving with exhaustion and terror.

After leaping to the side, Harry could only gape as one of the most unbelievable things he'd ever seen ran by.

An entire herd of Unicorns, about sixty or seventy adults in total, with eight or nine foals, thundered over the neatly clipped grass of the pitch, their hooves churning the earth and mud beneath. Their eyes were rolling, panicked-looking, and some had mounds of bubble saliva, as though rabid, surrounding their mouths. Many had their chests breathing at an accelerated rate, fatigued but frenzied, nowhere near as beautiful as they had once been.

They had come from out of the Forbidden Forest, and had hurtled straight through one side of the stands, tearing through the material in no time at all with their sharp horns and powerful hooves, and were now heading in the direction of the lake, ready to rip through the material on the opposite stands.

A hundred thoughts raced through Harry's head, before settling on one; Why are they running? A hundred more thoughts followed, ending up with; Something's chasing them. Something that's enough to take on an entire herd of Unicorns. But what? This time though, the answer came immediately. They had come from the Forest - and what else was in there? What wouldn't be affected by the cursing power of Unicorn blood? It was only too obvious.

Whilst the rest of the team only watched in amazement and disbelief as the raving, raging creatures fled, the ones leading already bursting through the layers of material that covered the stands and revealing the wooden frame below, Harry took action. "Get out! Get to the castle!" he screamed over the noise of pounding hooves, terrified neighs and screaming whinnies of fear.

The team looked at him, puzzled, but the older ones caught on after a second. "Whatever's chasing them is dangerous, and it's coming this way!" Alicia yelled to make herself heard, and as this sank in to those who hadn't understood before, she started running towards the school, followed immediately by the rest of the team.

Harry made as if to follow, but stopped as soon as soon as he could, doubling back to follow the Unicorns instead. If this daemon was as smart as Figg had taught them, it was sure to go after the Unicorns, which would be trapped, unable to flee, at the lake, rather than chasing the humans who - though slower - would reach the school within minutes, where there were powerful adult Wizards and Witches, especially the few remaining Unspeakables.

Realising as he followed the beasts that this was an incredibly stupid thing to do, and there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would be killed - though more likely a hundred percent, as he didn't even have a plan, a weapon, nor a Myrrh cage to trap it - Harry pulled out his wand, slowing as he saw that the Unicorns had already reached the lake and were pacing anxiously to and fro up the banks, tossing their heads and snorting desperately.

What Harry assumed to be the mothers were standing in front of their foals to guard them, lowering their horned heads and stamping their hooves, though they would be no defence, and two or three of the adults had split off, running in a different direction, hoping to escape the same fate that their herd would be subject to.

Wondering why the daemon hadn't already appeared, Harry noticed a few almost flecks of silvery blood, almost indistinguishable against their coats, on the flanks of those that had been at the back of the fleeing group, and felt sick. That explained why it hadn't come yet - it had already caught one of them, one of the slower ones that had been at the back of the herd, and was finishing it off.

But with the chance of more prey to fill it after hundreds of years of nothing, it was doubtful it would be satisfied with just that - swallowing hard, Harry prayed to whatever deity was out there that he might survive this and protect the herd, and that reinforcements - whether in the form of Levina, or Dumbledore, or the Unspeakables - might come in time, and help him.

But as he saw, far away, a black humanoid creature with huge ebony wings come bursting from between the trees, running on legs like the hind legs of a dog, but with the speed of a cheetah, and hurtling in his direction, he realised with a sinking heart, rising bile, and burning upper chest that no- one would make it in time.

Wait - burning chest?

---

Levina, at the moment back in the city of Atlantis, though now enclosed in a protective bubble of air (she didn't need to breathe, but wet clothes were just so uncomfortable) was busy searching through the books in one of the many libraries of the city. This one - the most famous and grand of them - was in the royal sector, and the kings and queens had been its patrons. It had eight sides, the entire building made of pure, shining ivory.

Either side of the massive doors - as big as one and a half storeys, made from the magically preserved wood of a now extinct species of tree, and covered with a thin coat of silver, studded with pearls - were pillars that rose even higher than the doors, entirely ivory, right through to the core.

To reach the building, eight stories high, with almost church-like windows and with a transparent dome, topped with a tower that not only offered a view of the entire island, but held a gigantic solid silver bell that was enchanted to toll out every morning to the entire island, one would have to climb the eight ivory steps that ran around the length of the building raising it nearly to the height of one of the nearby temples (astonishingly, even grander than this building). The pursuit of knowledge, to the Atlanteans, was one of the highest endeavours, and this was a building that was made to prove it. Containing in it and in the vaults below, over three million different books, five million scrolls, and many orbs and rods that contained information in thoughts and words, rather than in writing, so even the illiterate commoners of the day could benefit from the wisdom.

There were only three buildings in the entire city of Atlantis that surpassed this one's beauty - the royal palace, the temple of the main goddess (as mentioned just a moment ago), and the museum, which contained paintings, tapestries, artefacts, weaponry, pots, jewellery, clothes, instruments, maps - thousands on display in cases and on walls, though hundreds of thousands more were kept in myriad vaults and rooms below the galleries, where they would be identified, noted, valued and studied by the archaeologists and museum workers.

These four buildings were the most important of all the architecture in Atlantis; the royal palace - 'The Palace of Majesty', or S'Turil Am Tupris; 'The Temple of the Blessed', or S'Kairn Am S'Verae; the library was 'Wisdom of Anya', the goddess of learning and knowledge, or Moun (the word only used for divinely given wisdom) Am Anya; and finally the museum was known as 'The Museum Born Of Understanding', or S'Mala Amast Mana.

Levina had managed to disable the wards against intruders in the vaults of Moun Am Anya, where the untranslated, or unrecorded books were kept while making copies (in case a borrower lost or damaged it), and also where they were kept while any information that was particularly interesting was extracted for use, whether for teaching in the schools, to develop technology, to test old and lost theories, before they went on the shelves on the main floors. Here was where the original, a copy, and a translated copy of each of the books were kept, only possible to borrow through permission of the Record-Keeper (the one who managed the library) or through royal or military permission. Only another translated copy was allowed to the shelves above to be borrowed at will.

Levina was at the moment searching through one of the larger sections of the vault; the rod section. Knowledge, the Atlanteans believed, should not be restricted only to those who could read the elaborate and complicated runes that was the language, and could take years to master - there were various other means of holding information apart from writing, so that anyone who could travel to the library could learn.

The rods were one clever way of storing knowledge - taking a blank one, transparent, and usually about as long as a teenagers' forearm (though many were portable, and only the size of a stretched-out hand), the rod - made of a glass-like material made by magic - could be scanned down a page, immediately copying the words or images inside it. As it absorbed more information, swirls of what appeared to be ink would appear inside it, of the colour of the writing in the book - if, for example, the book had been written in black ink, with a few illustrations in blue and red, the rod would appear to become mainly a misty black, but with streaks of swirling blue and red running though.

After the book was copied, the title and author would be engraved onto the crystal-like exterior, as well as the main category of the information; health, education, etc, and the indentations of the letter would be inset with jewels of a colour that would show up against the foggy interior; opals on a black rod, rubies on a blue rod and so on.

These rods had major advantages over books, parchments and scrolls - instead of poring through musty or new tomes to decipher their contents, one could simply take the required rod, hold each rounded end with both hands, and say the title aloud, which would then trigger the enchantments, allowing the information contained to be released into the mind of the person holding it, at a rate faster than reading, but not enough (unless you were to be reading dozens a day) to give any headaches.

Along with this, as the information was going to straight to the brain so not only was there the fact that the brain - even with no prior knowledge of runes, so even the normally illiterate could 'read' them, and there was no chance of missing words and so on, there was also the added bonus that this made the information easier to remember - most Atlantean studies put it about sixty percent easier, though some boasted that they could recite entire books and describe the illustrations perfectly after using it only once. This (unsurprisingly) made them extremely popular with students before exams.

Levina, however, was certainly not studying for a test, nor looking up the early theories of Mana Storms or the creation of an Enchantment Nexus, nor the myths of the Gold Bone Skull, or the Secret Life Lance. Instead, she was searching in the Military section, or to be more specific, in the Military sub-section of 'Fighting Arts'.

Carrying what appeared to be a rack filled with ten round holes, Levina paused every now and then to select a rod, read the title and then either put them back in place on the shelves (which looked more like a gigantic version of the rack she was carrying) or in her own rack.

So far, the two spaces filled in her carrying frame contained 'The Longsword: A Concise Examination of Variations' by Ferrir Bravaley, and 'Basic Swordfighting' by Chal d'Sparrn. She then selected 'Advanced Swordfighting', by the same author, before moving to the opposite side of the room - the 'Calling of Pre-Existing Magical Constructs' sub-section - a selecting 'Sendings and Dismissals' by Alac Battica, 'Basic Summoning' by Duke Herme Winte, 'The Book of Summons' by the same author, and 'Demonology and Daemon Summoning Volume One' by Cilare Drubane. Three more rods could be carried, so moving onto the next section, she picked out 'The Tiger's Book of Transformation' by an anonymous author, 'The Animal Gods' Prayers' by various priests of the different gods and goddesses of creatures, and finally 'Enchantments of Y'Laagrondd', which was mainly snake and dragon magic, including spells that could be could be considered Dark and Light.

Unaware that it was getting more doubtful by the second that Harry would be _alive_ to learn from the books, she closed the lid on the carrying rack, and started off in the direction of the exit.

---

As the Quidditch players burst into the entrance hall, gasping for breath, there was only Professor McGonagall there to greet them. She took one look at the ragged group that had burst their way through the doors, and began asking questions. After just a single minute she had ascertained that, a) a herd of Unicorns had rushed through the pitch, b) they were being chased by something, c) as it was coming in their direction, and obviously dangerous, they too had fled. Oh, and when she realised that the group were the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she did a quick count, and noticed that one player was missing. Sending the team to fetch the Aurors and Headmaster, she brought out her wand, and raced outside, hoping she wasn't too late.

She was.

---

Tom, loyal servant of Sir Abyssay, was at the moment battling his way through one of the most terrifying and deadly things in existence (paperwork to be honest, but nevertheless an effective poison to even the stoutest man's heart). He was interrupted by this when a small red light on his desk lit up with a small 'ping'.

Not pausing for a second, the man's head immediately turned to face a large clock on the wall. Instead of telling the time however, this was a particularly large and detailed version of the common Wizarding clock, which told the status of the Wizard or Witch identified. Around this, rather than the usual twelve of most status clocks, were sixty outcomes, one where each minute should be, and beside was written (in tiny ink) the meaning.

At the moment, one of the three hands, marked 'Harry Potter', was pointing to 'Mortal Peril'. Throwing his quill down immediately, Tom swore fluently in Troll (there was something wonderfully expressive about the guttural tones of Trolls) and brought his wand down on a small screen on top of his desk. "26H, code twelve!"

---

Perhaps, before we continue, the powers of those known as 'The Dark', or 'The Five' should be explained. A magical ritual, passed down through the royal family, ensured that every heir would receive a gift that would help them rule - although quite frankly, it appears in hindsight that lessons on decency would have been more useful.

Though the powers given were random, they had certain limits; only people with magical power above a certain level could control a given power - for example, it would be impossible to receive the gift of Necromancy if below the rank of an Enchanter, and so on. Because of this, the powers given could either be weak or strong, depending on the pre-existing power of the subject of the ritual.

Unfortunately for the Resistance, the Dark were powerful to begin with.

Dagda, the eldest prince, was endowed with the power of the Telekini. Able to move objects or people simply through sheer willpower, whether it be to swing a sword from half a mile away, or let a feather hover over his palm without dropping. He was the most powerful of the siblings, acted as the leader.

Brenna was the second eldest, and the first daughter. With the power of a Necromancer, she could speak to, bind, and even bring back the dead as slaves, unaware and soulless, rotting husks of who they once were. Because of this, she was the most feared - after all, it's one thing to see your child killed, but what about them being raised just moments later, determined to obey its Summoner and kill you?

Calhoun was a Multielemental, with power over the thirteen elements, and able to call up beings out of elements, to fight for, or defend, people, objects, or strongholds.

Melanie, the second youngest, was a Possessor, able to inhabit others' bodies and control them, or through the use of long and complicated enchantments, even to place willing subjects into anothers' body.

Lucretia was the final, and least feared, though she was particularly useful at spotting spies and saboteurs - with the gift of an Auramagi, she could see auras; like an Empath, she could detect emotions, lies and feelings of a person - but unlike them, she saw this as a hazy glow of various colours around the body, and could also manipulate these to affect a person's mood, strength of belief, energy levels, and sometimes even life- force.

The ritual that bestowed these abilities upon them was still being passed down by the descendants; the Fives' uncle, the King's brother, had also be bestowed, and had passed the knowledge down his own children, and down to theirs, right the way to modern times, and Draco Malfoy. While Malfoy the younger was an Empath, his father Lucius was an Earth Elemental - though extremely weak, and the power itself had almost disappeared from disuse.

These gifts rarely occurred in Muggles or Squibs (though there were proven instances of weak Seers and the occasional Dialector - speakers of any sentient beings' language without prior learning, though in the non-magic this was so weak that only one or two languages were instantly known, in which case Muggles passed it off as xenoglossy, or it only showed itself as a talent for picking up languages faster than most others.

In Wizards, (apart from those who had it bestowed upon them by a spell such as the Cyrin royal family, which was non-hereditary) only one in seven- hundred had even a weak hint of any ability, and only one in twelve-hundred had enough power to make any real use of it. The power occasionally cropped up in otherwise ordinary Wizards and Witches, like a magic-user born to a family of Muggles, but was usually hereditary, sometimes fading away or becoming stronger with each generation. Many abilities hadn't come about for over a millennia.

Rowena Ravenclaw was said to have been a Healer; Merlin (the more recent, Arthurian one) was recorded as a swallow Instamagus, someone who could become an Animagus without training (an ability that hadn't cropped up in six hundred years, and had almost certainly been wiped out of the gene pool), and the most recent case of a well-known figure being one of the gifted was Grindelwald, who had been a Movila, able to travel anywhere at will.

Abilities were rare. Abilities were respected. Abilities were feared. Most of all, abilities were damn useful. Except of course if it were the ability of a Past-Reader, and you wanted to protect yourself from a literally blood-thirsty daemon that was speeding towards you faster than a professional Quidditch player on the latest test broom.


	8. Chapter 8: Music

Chapter 8: Music

---

"...Your father's death has made me extraordinarily hungry..." - Out of Season (excellent book! - A/N)

---

Harry forced himself to remain calm as the last bubble of hope that he had, popped like the sound an Apparition. The creature tearing towards him and like, and unlike, the pictures Figg had shown the class. Yes, it had the short, almost elfin ears. Yes, it had the black, scaly skin. Yes, it had the wicked, curved , grey claws, and the bird-like eyes, and the yellowed teeth like fangs. But how could the artist have captured its movement? Sharp, jagged, swift pulls of the hind leg to lunge forwards, as though trying to run faster than it could. And to draw its viciousness - the crazed, savage look that lingered about its face, that was all too evident in the twist of the ram-horns either side of the head, that showed in the taut clenching of the brutal, strong yet narrow hands? Impossible.

As it neared enough for Harry to see the detail on its wings, flesh stretched tight between the segments of bone, it stopped - just two-hundred feet away - and crouched a little, as if preparing to pounce. Raising its head slightly, the daemon sniffed the air delicately, like a cat. Harry forced himself not to shake, and the Unicorns behind him snorted nervously, understanding that this deadly predator was going to kill every single one of them.

The daemon, meanwhile, carefully watched this new factor. The scent, very faint against the overpowering smell of Unicorn, told it that this new creature was a human, like the one it had killed a while ago; young; male; alone; and physically weak. Perfect prey, but daemons weren't known for their rashness.

The daemon's memories told it that humans were an intelligent species, which meant that one wouldn't deliberately trap itself with a predator. Either there were more nearby, and this was a trap, or this bipedal creature had other means of protecting itself, for which it wouldn't need physical prowess.

Using its developed senses to shut out the smell of Unicorns, water and grass, the daemon started looking for details in the human's scent for signs of a weapon.

Harry stood confused, as the creature just waited, apparently unhostile. What was it doing? Shouldn't it have attacked by now? Harry could have sworn the daemon sensed his thoughts, because the next second, it stopped scenting the air, lowered its head and looked straight at Harry.

'_Crap,_' he just had time to think, before the suddenly screaming beast flared its wings wide open, and raced towards him, still howling as it sped over the Unicorn-churned ground. Harry stood frozen, unable to move as this monster, straight out of a nightmare, hurtled towards him, allowing him to see closer and closer its gaping maw, the silvery Unicorn blood staining its otherwise yellow canines, and specks of silver blood coating its grey claws.

Finally snapping back to reality, Harry screamed out of the Techno-Magic spells, "_Senta turru_!"

Shards of jagged ice pelted from thin air, seeking to impale the daemon with deadly accuracy and force. Reaching it, they ripped through the beast's flesh and organs with ease, where they shattered, unable to melt, leaving sharp splinters in its stomach. The daemon gave a strangled scream, before collapsing, dead.

Or rather, that was how it should have been. Instead, the moment each shard touched the scales, the ice shattered and fell to the ground uselessly, unable to penetrate the armour.

As the blood-crazed beast was now less than a hundred feet away and closing, Harry's feet seemed to be stuck to the earth, unable to flee or even dodge. The daemon hissed in triumph at a successful hunt and brought its human-like arms forwards, to slice Harry's neck open. The boy gave a yell as he let off another spell, this time one that should have bound it up in ropes made of pure magic, but it bounced pointlessly off, just as the ice had.

Then, out of no-where, a roar came; unlike the scream of the daemon, this was deep, loud, rumbling and guttural, and above all, _angry_. Even the daemon seemed to stumble in shock as it spied something behind Harry, and with an even more heavy heart and sinking feeling of dread, Harry turned his head, not wishing to show his defenceless back to the predator, and went brilliantly white.

There, swooping down across the lake, was a dragon.

Wondering whether this was some kind of a bizarre dream, Harry almost forgot about the animal behind him. Even the Unicorns seemed to stare - there were only two types of dragon found in Britain, and huge, white ones with scales like mirrors were definitely _not _one of the species!

The dragon, obsidian eyes narrowed, was heading directly for him, and briefly Harry wondered whether it was more painful to be eaten by a dragon or a daemon. He didn't realise however, that the daemon he was thinking of was ten feet away, and in mid-pounce.

---

McGonagall stopped in amazement and incredulity as the most unbelievable sight unfolded before her eyes. By the lake was a herd of Unicorn, easily recognisable. There was a boy there, as well - she assumed that was Harry, though it was hard to tell from so great a distance - and someone else, running towards him.

But Harry wasn't watching the approaching figure, because over the lake, there was a dragon.

"Oh my," the Transfiguration professor whispered and promptly fainted.

---

The lithe dragon wrenched its powerful jaws apart revealing gleaming white fangs, and a serpentine forked tongue. Inhaling, its chest swelled out, before it pushed out a streaming torrent of scarlet fire directly at Harry and the daemon. Harry flung himself to the side, just as the daemon finished its leap right where Harry had been standing, the flames just missing them. Nearly toppling over, the daemon swiftly righted itself, and Harry realised he had dropped his wand - though it was no major worry, as Techno-Magic didn't need a wand.

The daemon swung around to attack its prey again, but before it could release another of its piercing screams, another tunnel of flame burst around it, not missing its target this time. The beast wailed in pain, before bursting out of the fire that covered and burned its thick skin.

However, not even a dragons' fire could penetrate the daemon's hide, for apart from where the already black scales had been scorched, and in one place cracked, there was no bleeding, and the creature was not even blinded. Already it seemed to have got over the pain, but it didn't seem to want to risk another attack like this, and with only a backward glance, the creature picked itself up and ran back to the Forest, knowing that if this human had put itself in harm's way once, it would do it again - and next time there wouldn't be a giant flying creature to protect it.

Harry picked himself up as he saw the daemon turn tail, and guessed it had gone to finish off the Unicorn it had already killed, back in the Forest. Seeing his wand, he grabbed it and held it up to the dragon, pointing it over the herd of Unicorn that were now scattering at the sight of this even larger predator, fleeing for their home now that they had caught their breath and drank from the lake.

There was no chance that he could defeat a dragon - how many Wizards had it taken to stun the Horntail? - but it was reassuring to Harry to hold the familiar weight of his wand. His upper chest was still burning around a focused point, and Harry realised in the back of his mind that it was the necklace Hermione had bought him.

Ignoring that for now, Harry quickly stepped back as the dragon - relatively small, so it must have been a young male; females were bigger than males, Harry remembered - settled on the ground nearby, a small rumbling announcing its landing. "Oh, Hell." Harry muttered, wondering why he hadn't ran along with the Unicorns, but it was too late. He'd had a lucky escape with the daemon - and now he knew why Levina was being so hard with the training - but unless the Aurors were pop out of the lake, there was no chance of him getting out of this.

Harry needn't have worried, however, for as the dragon fixed its ebony eyes on Harry, it seemed to nod its head at him, and wait. Harry swallowed, trembling. Where were the teachers? The Aurors? Heck, even Voldemort would be a welcome distraction! Well, maybe not, but still...

Wishing he was one of the Dragon-Discussers that the Techno-Magic entry on Y'Laagrondd had mentioned, and that he could speak Dractois, Harry nodded back, still shaking. Initiating bowing had worked with Buckbeak - why shouldn't replying to a nod work with dragons? Realising he was thinking gibberish in his panic, Harry focused on the problem at hand - i.e., a whopping great dragon.

The dragon, however, didn't seem to think it was nonsense. If anything, it seemed _grateful_ that Harry had replied, for it raised the corners of its mouth in an unmistakable, if unsettling, smile, and pushed itself down like a spring before bounding up, forcing its wings to flap with so much power that Harry was nearly knocked off his feet by the wind. Shaking himself as some of the lakes water was blown into his eyes, Harry could only gape as his unexpected, rather unusual saviour left him standing alone, and with a story that no-one would believe.

"Potter - do you have something you want to tell me?" Levina asked from behind him.

Well... maybe _one _person would.

---

"Are you _sure_ you don't know what it was?" the Auror repeated suspiciously, for the fourth time already.

"I don't have a clue," Harry repeated, also for the fourth time. "It looked like an Antipodean Opaleye, but it's eyes were wrong. It just flew off - I don't know why."

The professors could force no explanation out of him as he lay in the hospital wing, and Harry was thankful that McGonagall had fainted before she could see the dragon land. All they knew was that a creature - those of the Resistance were quietly informed that it had been a daemon - had been hunting the Unicorn, and Harry had been too slow to escape, and was forced to run behind the herd, where he was easy prey. The dragon had appeared, scaring the creature off, and then promptly left.

Understandably, the Aurors and non-Resistance members were not entirely satisfied with this vague and almost unbelievable tale.

Of course, Harry could barely believe it himself. He was sure Levina - who had seen him safely back to the school in case the daemon returned - knew something about the dragon, but as the Aurors and disguised Unspeakables had began (far too late) to race from the school to his aid, she had been forced to turn invisible and leave, otherwise the mystery of the unknown woman would have been added to the strange story.

When the Aurors had finally finished questioning him, Harry was left alone. Swearing to himself that he'd talk with Leone the next day and demand her to re-trap the daemon or face the consequences, Harry slipped out of bed and redressed into his robes, throwing the shapeless Hospital Wing gown onto the bed.

He hadn't been hurt, he wasn't ill, so there was no _way_ Madam Pomfrey was going to get him to stay in bed. While she bustled about in the walk-in cupboard where she kept the medicines, Harry sneaked almost silently past her and out the door, practically on tip-toe.

The second he'd eased the door closed behind him, Harry headed to the nearest window facing the Forest and looked out. Aurors and Unspeakables were strengthening the wards closest to the Forest - although, since the previous wards should have kept the daemon off school grounds, Harry felt it was highly doubtful these would work - and were apparently going to be calling in reinforcement Unspeakables to organise a party of daemon-hunters.

Professor Figg would be going with them, as she was an Unspeakable, though it was under the pretence of her being experienced in fighting daemons, as the other students were not meant to know.

Feeling a surge of anger in him, Harry glared at the expanse of trees. He felt so - useless. Yes, that was the word, useless. Because that's what he was, wasn't he? He hadn't even hurt the daemon, and now he was meant to just wait in the hospital wing while the nice adults took care of the big, bad monster that wanted to eat Grandma.

Scowling, Harry fingered his wand. Everything he'd tried had just bounced off it - the ice spell, the restraining spell, and they were some of his strongest. And dammit, Levina had point blank _refused_ to tell him what the dragon was! He knew that she knew - and she knew that he knew she knew - and he knew she knew that he knew that she knew - ad infinitum - where the dragon came from and what it was, and if she wasn't going to tell him –

Now frowning, the boy made his way downstairs, ignoring a fourth year Ravenclaw who stared at him as he went past, reminding him exactly what people thought of him. Strange, weird, the Boy-Who-Lived, freaky, possibly insane, might be lying about Voldemort - the list went on.

As he reached the entrance hall, Harry quickly ducked out of sight behind a suit of armour. The Aurors were coming in, boasting about how much power they'd put into the wards. Harry nearly snorted in disgust, but held it in before he gave his position away. He'd be surprised if those wards held up against the daemon for a day.

The eight or so Aurors passed by without even noticing him ('_Shows how well they're being trained,_' Harry thought) and as soon as they were out of sight, Harry slipped outside into the cold, dark grounds. It was bitter, chilly; wishing he could have gone to the dormitory to fetch his Winter cloak, Harry rubbed his hands together and watched the Forest, wondering if - or rather, when - the daemon would re-emerge.

There was a flicker of movement between the trees.

Heart stopping, Harry froze. Keeping as still as he could, he focused on the area where it had appeared, and saw it again almost immediately, hidden in the shadows from the trees. It stumbled slightly into a patch of sunlight, and Harry saw it was some kind of bright colour, like a yellow-orange. He recognised it instantly, from last years Care of Magical Creatures lesson; a Unicorn foal, golden until it grew older.

His breath returning to normal speed, Harry looked around to check that no-one was looking out of the lit windows, and darted towards the foal, wondering why it wasn't with the herd.

Keeping to patches of darkness, and making sure not to step in the light given from the windows of Hogwarts, Harry made it near the edge of the wards in just less than ten minutes. Here, he stopped. The Unicorn foal was hidden in deep shadow, barely visible except when it moved. Going any further would mean leaving the - small - safety that the protection of Hogwarts offered him, but curiosity won over. After all, it would only take a minute.

Harry knew that only a virgin girl could approach a Unicorn, but foals were generally more trusting. Holding his hands palm out to the golden creature to show he meant no harm, Harry slowly approached it.

He came within twenty feet of it, and it startled slightly, rustling the leaves around it as it watched him with doleful, barely visible, black eyes. Harry paused before continuing, even slower now.

"Hello, there." he said softly, trying not to startle it further. If it didn't think he was trying to sneak up on it, it wouldn't think he was a predator, and was more likely to stay. "Where's your mother, then?" he said comfortingly, though he didn't expect the Unicorn to understand what he was asking.

On some primitive level however, it did. This soothing person walking harmlessly towards it calmed it a little, and it linked this calm with the same peace it felt when it was with its mother. Raising itself a little, the leggy foal took a few cautious steps out of the gloom and towards Harry, ears pricked and ready to turn and run if this boy showed any signs that he wanted to hurt it.

Now that it was stepping closer to the moonlight - for it was now ten PM, and a nearly full moon was hanging overhead - Harry could see the detail on it, and knew why it wasn't with its mother.

Its golden coat was slightly rumpled, its body trembling slightly. It had several deep scratches along its flank, with some white blood seeping out, mostly dried. The same fluid, except silvery, was splattered over its right hand side and underbelly. The white blood was obviously its own, only changing to silver when it reached adulthood. The silver blood however, could only belong to an adult Unicorn - and since its mother wasn't with it, Harry could guess which Unicorn's blood it was, and which Unicorn the daemon had been feasting on before it came for the rest.

A mixture of compassion and pity for this young thing, not even a year old, welled up in Harry. It had obviously only worked out that its mother wouldn't be getting up again, and had followed the now old scent of Unicorn to outside the Forest, where they had been chased - but now it was loathe to go beyond the trees, where there was a wide expanse of open grass that it was unused to.

Harry wondered what he was to do with it, now that it was stumbling closer to Harry, apparently looking for help. He could hardly walk away and leave the thing, not with a clear conscience - it would be easy pickings for the daemon or any Acromantulas, or anything else that was lurking in the Forest. On the other hand, he could hardly slip a rope around its neck, lead it to school and say to Dumbledore 'I found it; can I keep it?'.

Cursing the fact that he had enough troubles to deal with anyway, Harry found himself reaching out and petting the foal on its head. '_Oh, brilliant. Just get attached to it, why don't I?_' he thought annoyed, pondering whether Unicorns were like rabbits, it that if a human scent were on it, the mother wouldn't want it anymore.

Deciding he wouldn't think about that just in case the answer was yes, Harry turned his thoughts as to what he meant to do with this helpless animal, with its moist, gazing eyes. Even better, now it was licking his damn hand! Perfect, that would make it all the harder to get rid of the blasted thing.

Fortunately, Harry didn't have to think for too long, because Levina's voice came from behind him, demanding to know exactly why he was standing in the freezing cold Forest at night-time without proper clothing, and petting a Unicorn - and by the way, wasn't he going to miss Astronomy?

A warming spell later (Harry made a note to learn it; it certainly would be useful), Harry and Levina finally came to an agreement over the Unicorn. At first, Levina had demanded that Harry send a few sparks out of his wand to get it to run further into the Forest, where they wouldn't have to worry about it again.

Five minutes later, Harry had talked her down to a point where she accepted that it would be better to keep it alive for now, and use it as bait for the daemon - something that Harry didn't want either. Another five minutes passed, as well as a few threats from Harry that he would be deliberately bad at training, and that he would fail the battle at the Eclipse, and make sure to get himself killed as quickly as possible, and finally Levina conceded defeat.

She would look after the half-orphaned animal until they could find its herd; 'After all,' Harry pointed out, 'If the Unspeakable team that are going in tomorrow don't kill it, then we'll have to go in eventually and either kill or capture it - and whilst we're in there, we can simply release it'.

This was not to say that Levina was only too happy to take it in; she pointed out that she would be far too busy to give it twenty-four hour attention, and Unicorn-care was one of the may things that wasn't programmed into her memory banks; but Harry knew that the Unicorn would at least be fed and healthy, and was relieved.

The Unicorn, however, was not so pleased to go. It was another ten minutes before it reluctantly left Harry and the outskirts of the Forest to go with Levina, who vanished with - to Harry, at least - an astounding display, where a purple glow surrounded her, before she flickered and disappeared, taking the foal with her.

Suddenly, Harry remembered that he hadn't found out where she would be _taking_ the Unicorn, and felt like a right prat.

---

It was only at ten-thirty PM that Harry dragged himself back indoors, finally realising how tired he was. Sadly, he wasn't about to get any more rest.

"Where _HAVE _you been!" McGonagall bellowed when she caught him trying to sneak upstairs to the dormitory. "You were missing from your bed, with not so much as a by-your-leave! We half thought you'd been kidnapped by Death Eaters or the like! But no, more than likely you were off doing something stupid like fighting Basilisks or sneaking off into the Forest!"

She only had to take one look at the suddenly guilty expression on Harry's face to know she was right.

"Well," she snorted, crossing her arms, and Harry briefly considered running back outside and throwing himself to the daemon, who would surely show more mercy than the Head of House. "Well, you certainly don't have a healthy respect for your safety, Mr Potter. Perhaps fifty points from Gryffindor and a weeks worth of detentions will put some into you."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but shut it quickly, remembering the last time he had tried, and ended up with more points taken. Nodding glumly, Harry let himself into Gryffindor Tower and crept into the dormitory and bed, where he sank into a deep sleep, not even waking to go to Astronomy.

---

The next day was Saturday, and Harry only found himself waking at almost midday, and still feeling tired. Groaning, he dragged himself upright, remembering that Gryffindor were now in last place for the House Cup. '_Still,_' he thought, feeling a little better, '_it's not as though we only have a while to go. We're only in the first term, after all._' Even so, Harry knew they would have to work hard to concentrate - they were now seriously lagging behind, with the Slytherins ahead by more than fifty points, and Ravenclaw in the lead with eighty more.

Sighing, Harry got out of bed and pulled on some robes and watch, but left the necklace beside his bed. He was sure he had felt it burning him yesterday - firstly when the daemon was about to attack, and even stronger when the dragon appeared. Harry frowned, and fingered the wings lightly. Was it just a coincidence that a figurine of a dragon goddess started burning, and moments later a dragon appeared?

Possibly - but it was doubtful.

Now scowling, the boy wondered whether Levina knew about his necklace, and there was even more that she wasn't revealing, or if she was completely ignorant of it. Somehow, he found the latter hard to believe. Deciding to think about that later, and just be normal for now, he put it back on his cabinet, and went to satisfy his growling stomach down at lunch - he didn't feel quite up to facing Dobby in the kitchens right now.

At the lunch table, Harry managed to get in almost completely unnoticed. Apart from a few whispers that broke out when he entered - it was just as Dumbledore had said in his first year; 'what went on ... was completely secret, so naturally, everybody knows' - he was otherwise unbothered. He distinctly heard the words "Unicorns' 'attacked' and 'dragon', though, and with a heavy heart he knew he would be questioned by Ron and Hermione.

To his pleasant surprise - and suspicion - his friends didn't immediately question him. Hermione clucked over him in a way reminiscent of Madam Pomfrey, making sure that he wasn't hurt, and had enough to eat. Ron chattered away about this and that, elegantly avoiding the subject, and at this Harry's suspicions were proved. After all, if Ron and Hermione were now the subject of wild rumours which said they'd faced down a Unicorn-hunting trespasser and a dragon, and got away unscathed, Harry was quite sure he would be demanding to know whether it was true, or whether the Daily Prophet had been spinning stories.

This, however, was unnerving. Either they hadn't _noticed_ that he had spent some of the night in the Hospital Wing, and they hadn't heard any of the rumours, which was quite impossible (not least because Fred and George would have at least _told _Ron), or - and Harry was one hundred percent certain it was this reason - they were plotting.

He didn't know what, but they were definitely up to something, and he was beginning to get worried.

---

Harry was, however, more worried as he was hiding under his Invisibility Cloak and making his way to the Room of Requirement. The hairs on the back of his neck were prickling, as though he were being watched, and though he couldn't hear anything, he was all too aware of the dangers of the daemon.

He made it safely to the Room without incident though, and got through as safely as the previous time, to find Levina waiting for him. "Sword fighting again?" Harry asked as he slipped his Cloak off, folded it and put it down.

Levina grinned. "What else?" she asked, holding out his own longsword in one hand, and holding the dragon head on top of her own broadsword with her other hand. Harry's eyes caught on the dragons pearl eyes, and knew for certain that Levina knew more about the dragon than she was letting on. But, as he also knew that he wouldn't get any information out of her until she wanted to tell him, he accepted the proffered sword.

"We're going to have to get you some proper fighting clothes to wear for training," the woman said conversationally, as she unsheathed her violet sword. Harry looked at it, slightly worried. It contained a fatal poison, after all. "Are you going to be using it unsheathed?" he queried, trying to sound flippant, as though he didn't care.

Levina looked down at it in surprise, and then laughed. "Good thing you reminded me, before I accidentally cut you," she said, sounding amused. "I almost forgot - most times I fight, it's because I want to take the opponent down. Sorry about that, it completely slipped my mind."

"That's okay," Harry replied cheerfully, though he felt even more worried. He quickly shook it off though - it was an accident, a moment of forgetfulness, nothing more. After all, if she wanted to kill him, why bother making it appear like an accident to _him_? She could easily slit his throat right now, and no-one would be any the wiser. No, it was just that she was used to fighting in proper duels instead of training a teenager - that was all.

Holding his sword in a defensive position, Harry did as his latest tutor had taught him, and kept his eyes on Levina's wrists, her arm, and her feet, as well as looking for any weak areas all at once, ready to move as soon as she did, whether to attack or defend, depending on what she did. When it appeared she would do nothing but stand there, Harry knew she wanted him to start, and took the initiative, throwing a feint and then a hard blow to her side.

The fight, Harry was proud to say, lasted exactly eleven minutes and twenty-seven seconds before he was beaten. Although he knew Levina was going easy on him, and if she had used magic he would have been thrashed within seconds thanks to her superior spell knowledge, he was glad to know that his handiwork with Gryffindor's sword wasn't all due to any magical power within it. Harry managed to land several good blows on Levina; one to her side, which sliced a thin red line across her - although he was so surprised that androids could bleed (or that this one could, at least) that he paused for too long and was beaten back before he could strike again.

He also managed to make her stumble for a few seconds, which if he had been better, he could have taken advantage of, and twice he struck her on the shoulder of her sword arm, though they were relatively weak blows.

As Harry caught his breath (one of the good things about not being truly alive, Levina pointed out, was that you never ran out of breath), his fighting tutor turned to the cabinet she had first taken her sword from, and now took something else from the bottom of it. It appeared to be a box, the same tacky plastic-white that so many old computers were made of back in the days when Pac-Man was the greatest thing since flares and hippies.

Its top was transparent, like a diskette box, and through it could be seen mainly black-filled tubes, about ten or so. As Levina brought it over to him, she flipped the top open, and showed it to Harry. "These are Inforods," she explained, pulling one of the rods out of its slot to show him. "Each one contains a different book; the title and author are engraved onto the side on each. To see what's inside -"

"You break it?" said Harry helpfully.

"You do _not_ break it, on any circumstances!" gasped Levina, sounding horrified. "Do you know how long it takes to make these?"

Harry shook his head, and Levina paused. "Well - about twenty minutes, but that's not the point. The point _is_ that these are extremely fragile - and they don't react well to spells, so don't try putting Unbreakable charms on them or anything. Now, you read them by holding each end and saying the title and author, and then the rod will automatically start putting the contents of the book - words, images and so on - into your brain. It won't be done instantly, but it goes at just over a hundred pages every second, and it's easier to remember than reading as well. I want you to go through all of these - they'll help your training a lot."

"Brilliant!" Harry breathed, taking one of the rods and holding it up. "Why don't we use these instead of having to read the textbooks? Hey, are these real sapphires?"

"Yes, they're real sapphires, so don't leave them where they'll get stolen - and don't remove them either, I don't like thieves. I suppose the reason they don't use these anymore is that the technology was lost, just like a lot of stuff was when Atlantis sank. This isn't any glass, or even crystal," Levina said, tapping the side of the one she was holding. "I'm not entirely sure _what_ it is, but though I know it was common enough a few thousand years ago, it may not be around any longer - some type of crushed coral I believe, though I may be wrong."

"I'll take care of them," Harry promised. "I'm not sure how I'm going to fit them under the Cloak, though."

Levina shrugged. "You don't need to take them all now; just take the one tonight and finish that tomorrow, and then take another next time you come. Here," she said, selecting one of the rods and passing it to Harry. "Read '_Basic Swordfighting_' first. Chal d'Sparrn - that's the author - was one of the finest at it; champion for twelve years running, beginning from when he was twenty-four up to his retirement."

Harry frowned, though he took the rod. "Retirement from sword-fighting? At just thirty-six?"

"He'd progressed as far as he could go, and he wanted to go out as a winner, rather than a loser," she explained. "So many other people had taken it up, and every year it was getting a little harder to win, as people got better, developed new moves - still, he was one of the best. Legendary, even; little children used to play at being him." she grinned. "Still, once I've trained you up, I'm sure everywhere you turn, there'll be kids trying to get their parents to be a sword so they can be like you - unless you've been killed by a daemon or the Dark, first." she corrected herself.

"Thanks for the confidence boost," Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as Levina put the other rods back in their case, and set the box back in the cabinet. "When am I going to get started on the staff and the body?"

"Once you've progressed enough in the sword, and once you're fit enough," Levina retorted. "Right now, you don't look as though you could pinch the wings off a fly, let alone punch _me _down. Give it a few weeks yet."

"Hm," Harry sounded, not even sure what he really meant himself, as he studied '_Basic Swordfighting_'. "You said it crams a hundred pages into a second - how long is _this_ book?"

Levina stopped to think. "About two-thousand pages long."

Harry's mouth fell open, and his eyes went wide. This only served to make Levina smirk. "Now you see why books weren't very popular with most of the middle classes - imagine trying to take that out of the library. Besides, you needn't worry; most of the space is taken up by images of various moves. Page one-thousand, four-hundred and eight shows that slash I showed you, so you might want to look at that part very closely; I noticed you were holding the sword incorrectly at that point."

Giving Levina the dreaded Look Of Annoyance, Harry set the rod on top of his Cloak. "Okay, then. By the way - can you give me any tips about fighting Volucris daemons? I mean, my spells just bounced off it when I tried to stop it." As he said this, Levina looked thoughtful.

"It must be a particularly strong daemon - and well fed by now, since its obviously been hunting in the Forest. You've still got a block on your power - yes," she said as Harry made to interrupt, "I can feel the use of Techno-Magic around you, though it may be weak; you've taken down some power blocks quite recently. However, there's still two more layers of blocks; it looks like the Resistance _really_ didn't want the Dark to find out your power. I can remove those blocks - though as the layers get deeper, it takes more power, so give me some time to get a focus and some ingredients - and that should make it more likely you'll be able to hurt the daemon.

"However, don't think it's going to be an easy battle after that; you'll still need me, and you were lucky to not get hurt last time. I can promise you, next time you go off and do a stupid thing like that, running off to face a daemon without backup, you're going to get killed. And even if you're well prepared, I'm with you, Ajax is increasing your powers, and all your blocks are gone, we'd still be in for a fight, and you'd still be seriously injured, if not killed; so don't think it's all going to be fun and games after I remove them for you."

"I never said I thought it would be!" Harry replied hotly, insulted by this lack of faith in him. "And believe me, I've learned my lesson - I'm not going to face down that daemon on my own again. By the way," he asked, changing the subject as he remembered; "how's the Unicorn?"

Levina snorted. "Settling in fine. It's in Thetford Forest at the moment; I've stuck up Muggle-repelling wards, and alarm spells, so don't worry about it getting hurt. It was running about between some barrier spells I'd put up, when I left, and it's far more trouble than it's worth. Now, there's a quarter of an hour until ten o'clock, but you might as well go early tonight, so you can read that book in the morning."

Harry was only too glad to oblige, and flung his Invisibility Cloak over him, grabbing the rod, saying goodnight, and whisking himself away and out of the door that led to the Gryffindor dormitory.

Everyone was asleep, Dean snoring and the others silent, so Harry quietly got changed and slipped into bed unnoticed, not even pausing to stroke Ajax, who was perched with his head tucked under a wing, goodnight.

---

On Sunday, Hermione and Ron still didn't mention the dragon or daemon. It was if it had never happened, and Harry was growing more suspicious and nervous by the moment. Were they trying to agitate him until the story burst out of him without even being asked? It was certainly what it felt like; they could hardly have not noticed the strange and either awe-struck or frightened looks that people were giving him - or the fact that it was mentioned in the Daily Prophet. Spitting out his pancake, Harry grabbed the recently delivered paper and scanned the front page.

_**Dragon Attacks Hogwarts School!**_

_Late last night, under the glow of an almost full moon, a new Beast was seen on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Although the few reports vary, many agree the suddenly appearing dragon who rose out of the forest nearby was none other than an Antipodean Opaleye, identified by its brilliant white scales._

_Not only did this dragon chase over a hundred Unicorns and Centaurs out of the aptly named 'Forbidden Forest', it must be noted that it had apparently acquired a taste for Human flesh, as it viciously attacked Harry Potter, badly wounding him. Although Mr Potter was unavailable for comment, confined to the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts (though rumours persist he may have to be moved to St. Mungoes, as he is afflicted by severe burns and blood loss), two students and an Auror also saw the spectacle._

"_It was so terrible," Miss Parkinson, an attractive fifth year recalls, with a hint of fear at the memory. "I was just looking out of the window when a huge, roaring creature just came up from the Forest and breathed out a row of fire, directly at Pott- I mean, Harry. We're all so devastated at this terrifying attack on one our closest friends. Some of us are quite against the idea of leaving the castle now - who knows what else is living out there?"_

_Who knows, indeed? Rumours abound that a daemon is living in the Forest after the tragic yet brutal demise of one of the professors earlier this year, and the question remains - how long has the daemon, or even the dragon, been living unchecked in the Forest? Basil Browning, a Captain in the Aurors, is in charge of a group that will be searching the Forest today, seeking to trap or kill the daemon. With the knowledge of this dragon - and who knows whether its mate and young reside in the Forest as well? - several experts have also bee called in on short notice, to subdue the Opaleye for release into one of the protected dragon reserves._

_The squad will now consist of twelve Aurors, three Unspeakables, one of the Hogwarts professors (who has experience in daemonic traps), Embeller Adoric (the famous professional daemon hunter, who will be supplying the Myrrh Cage that will be used to trap the daemon) and four dragon experts from Scandinavia and Romania._

_This reporter is standing by for more information, and the results of the expedition - the first full-scale search into the Forest in one-hundred and seven years, the location of which is reputedly populated by Acromantulas, Boggarts and Forest Trolls - will be made known by tomorrow morning. Until then, we can only wait._

_By Corrie Spondant_

Harry managed to beat down the swearword that threatened to escape past his lips, and glanced around the Hall. Thankfully, most people didn't seem to believe the first lot of lies - the Quidditch team, Harry was sure, would have made it quite clear that is was only Unicorns, and no Centaurs were in sight - and if Pansy Parkinson was attractive, and his good friend (it was also particularly interesting how the reporter skipped over the fact she was a Slytherin; '_Bet that wouldn't go down too well with the masses,_' though Harry grimly), well, then pigs would fly.

And certainly, it was obvious to anyone in the school that Harry was not going to be going to St Mungoes because of blood loss anytime soon - or at least, he didn't hope so.

But the next lies - that it had been the dragon that had chased the herd, that it had come out from the Forest instead of from over the lake, and the truth that it was a daemon that had killed Trelawney, before escaping into the Forest, would be much easier to believe. The problem was that this Embeller Adoric would be hoping to trap the daemon in a Myrrh Cage; and Levina had said that after being trapped in one Cage, if a daemon was released it could only be trapped again in the same Cage. This meant that their only option would be to fight it - and if the daemon picked them off one by one, they would all be in big trouble.

The only sure way to make sure they were safe would be to find Figg's Myrrh Cage, and that - with no help, as Levina was God knows where, and he had no clues to go on - would be impossible. Even if he could get hold of it, they would still have to create the pentagram, weaken it and trap it, which would take more than just a song and dance. Of course, even worse, there was the point that they obviously didn't _know_ a daemon could only be re-trapped in the same Cage it had been in the first place; otherwise they'd have gone out prepared to kill it, not bothering to supply a Cage. Harry frowned down at the paper, wondering whether he could help them somehow.

Wait! There was _one_ lead he had to go on, one clue to follow. Harry's eyes flicked to Leone Nikastal, who was sipping some Pumpkin Juice, unaware of his watching gaze. Throwing the newspaper down, Harry abandoned his breakfast and rose, ignoring Ron and Hermione's looks of surprise, his face set and stony.

Marching down the table to where the Bulgarian was sitting, Harry tapped Leone on the shoulder, resisting the urge to punch her in the face. Surprised, Leone turned around, and Harry saw the similarities between her and her twin. Although she had brown hair instead of black, showing that they weren't identical twins, her eyes were the same icy-blue, her face the same shape and same ghostly white, her hair the same style (if a little shorter than Natasha) - and even her cheekbones were the same height.

"I want to talk to you. Alone." Harry said sharply, and Leone and the pair sitting next to her (Darren Hughes and April Clothier) flinched and looked astonished at the cold fury in his voice.

The Bulgarian looked puzzled and confused, and shrugged to show that she didn't mind, before rising and following him outside the Hall, into the Transfiguration classroom, where Harry shut the door behind them and muttered a Techno-Magic silencing ward, so that anything or anyone outside the room wouldn't hear what went on inside. He made sure to hold his wand as he said it, to make it look as though he had used it; the last thing he needed on top of all this was for a daemon-Summoner to find out about Techno-Magic.

Turning to his adversary, who was waiting and sitting on one of the desks, legs swinging slightly, Harry looked positively murderous. "Where is it?" he barked out, holding his wand by his side, but not putting it away.

Leone's eyes narrowed in bewilderment. "I beg your pardon?"

"The Myrrh Cage that you stole. Where is it?"

Now she looked surprised. "Myrrh Cage?" she asked, in broken English. "I know Professor Figg have one, and I read that Embeller Adoric have one, but I don't own one - my family have no daemon hunters in it-"

"No, because the Myrrh Cage isn't yours," Harry snapped, before repeating, "You _stole_ it. You stole it from Professor Trelawney and Summoned the daemon, and told it to _kill_ her. It nearly killed me, it nearly killed Draco Malfoy, it's bloodthirsty and brutal and vicious and it _needs _to be returned to its Cage, _now_. So I'm asking you again - where. Is. The. Cage?" Leone looked sickened, shocked and disbelieving, all in one.

"You think I steal Myrrh Cage?" she breathed, then turned angry as this sank in. "How dare you! Because my sister is murdered, you think I - I go insane, or something, and call up daemon? Why'd I do that? What reason? I didn't even know Myrrh Cage was stolen, never mind daemon being called. I thought newspaper was lying about daemon, and I have nothing to do with teacher's death!" She paused to take a breath and calm down a little. "I don't have Myrrh Cage." she announced. "Stolen or passed down, or given as gift, I don't have one, and I never tell anything to kill _anyone_. That the way it is, whether you believe or not."

As she spoke, the seed of doubt that had already existed in Harry grew and grew into a great oak, and now Harry realised with horror that Leone had done nothing - she had neither stolen the Cage, nor raised the daemon, nor sent it to attack anyone - not only had he accused an innocent girl, one already stricken by her sister's murder, but more importantly, and with more long-lasting effects: Levina had lied.

But why? Harry's mind raced to find the answer. Because _she_ was the one who called the daemon! No, otherwise, why would she have saved him and Malfoy? Perhaps - maybe - Harry frowned. There _was_ no other explanation, and that one couldn't be - so why would Levina lie?

First things first, he decided. Apologising to Leone, he removed the silencing ward and let her leave. The question now remained - who had really Summoned the daemon, if not Leone or Levina? An obvious choice would be Professor Figg - what better way to gain power but not suspicion, than to let someone else borrow the Cage and steal it from them, eliminating themselves from the suspects? But if that were so, than why would she help Harry?

It could be one of the other Bulgarians; after all, they came from Durmstrang, a school of Dark magic - but what reason would they have? Could one of them be servants of the Dark? On the other hand, there was as much chance of that as one of the Hogwarts students working for the Dark, so he shouldn't restrict that idea to the Bulgarians. It was doubtful that a Death Eater had released it - the chances of killing one of their own children would be too great. It was a real conundrum, and one he was unlikely to find the answer to anytime soon.


	9. Chapter 9: Magic

Chapter 9: Magic

---

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." - A Tale of Two Cities

---

At one o'clock in the afternoon, the squad of Aurors, experts and Unspeakables - this time, not in disguise, their black cloaks bearing the insignia of a silhouetted Nundu, and hands itching to pull out their wands - arrived at the school. The Aurors were looking incredibly smug - facing down a dragon and a daemon would obviously be a feather in their caps back at the Ministry - and were mainly composed of men.

Two of the Unspeakables, looking a lot more serious and disapproving of the Aurors' reckless 'we can defeat anything, worship us' attitude, were also Wizards, but the third was a Witch, who was the leader. Figg was talking with them, and though she was going only as an expert on daemons, only the Unspeakables (and the other teachers) knew that she was an Unspeakable as well.

There were four experts on dragons, who had been rushed in when the Ministry heard there was a dragon in the Forest - three of them had been helping with the dragons at the Triwizard Tournament the previous year, one of whom was Charlie, who was now travelling from one reserve to the next, collecting information on the dragon populations. The trio spoke to him briefly, before he was rushed away to the group of Aurors, to explain the weak areas of a dragon, and what spells would be best used to subdue it.

The final member of the squad - taking part in what was officially 'Operation: Daemon Capture 06' (but was unofficially nicknamed 'Operation: Kick Daemonic Ass', until the Witch Unspeakable (Doris Bludgeon) caught them at it, and started yelling at them about being professional, and the result of tomfoolery, for twenty minutes) - was Embeller Adoric, the professional Australian daemon hunter, who was apparently quite famous (though more so in Australia) for having captured twenty-four daemons.

At first Harry took one look at his blond hair and thought he was another Gilderoy Lockhart and taking credit for other people's actions, but his eagerness to increase his captures to twenty-five finally convinced Harry that the middle-aged man was serious about his work, and not fame.

The group settled in the Great Hall for half an hour, assigning the order in which they would travel, which side of the Forest they would travel through first, what to do if anyone ran into trouble, and poring over a five-hundred year old map which showed the main paths through the Forest (though by now, most of the paths had disappeared, and trees had grown up or fallen down, thus changing the layout even more.

---

At two o'clock, half the students were hanging around by the windows overlooking the Forest, watching for the group to leave the school, and more than a few cheered in excitement when they disappeared into Forest. Harry, however, just watched grimly out of the Divination classroom window, having abandoned Ron and Hermione on the second floor, and slipped away upstairs, watching for movement in the trees.

'I should have told them that they can't re-trap the daemon,' Harry thought glumly, watching as the final member of the group disappeared. 'This could be the last time anyone ever sees them, and it'll be my fault - and somehow, the fact that no-one will know that I could have stopped it will make it even worse.'

The sweep of the Forest was not expected to take any amount of time - as no- one knew how long it would take to find the daemon or dragon, nor even the layout of the Forest except that from the map five-hundred years ago, they were expected to return at about eleven o'clock (unless they completed their job earlier), and report, before heading out again at midnight to perform another search.

No news, people say, is good news, but for Harry it was bad. The squad didn't return at three o'clock, nor four, nor five, nor six; they weren't back by seven, and as the students trooped down to supper, the worry in Harry's heart began to grow more and more. There were no red sparks seen above the trees, but Harry knew how fast the daemon could go, and how silently it stalked Malfoy; it could come from behind before anyone could even set off a warning.

None of the squad were nearby at eight PM, and when the students went to bed at nine, still no-one had returned, and Harry resigned himself to preparing for the worst, though he kept a flicker of hope inside him, and returned to keep watch out of the Divination tower window, though he knew he was breaking curfew.

At ten o'clock, and outside was completely black, still no-one returned; and when eleven o'clock finally passed and none of the squad had come back, Harry could only imagine the activity that must be taking place in the entrance hall, where the teachers and a few Ministry workers were waiting for reports.

At eleven minutes past ten, though, a motley band of people trudged back up the entrance doors far less jubilantly than they had left. As they appeared closing in on the school, Harry leapt up from where he was practically falling asleep on the ledge and quickly counted the number of them.

Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen, seventeen. There had been twenty-one people setting out, and now only seventeen of them returned. A nasty feeling grew in the pit of his stomach as he wondered who had been - eaten? Killed? Crushed? The feeling grew as he wondered how they had died; the daemon, an Acromantula, an accident with one of the many predators in the Forest?

He would have to wait until morning for the answers - now, he would have to race to the dormitory before they gave their report, and Filch and Mrs Norris began their rounds.

---

The next day, Monday, Harry learned from the excited and morbid whispers going from table to table that the four who had not returned - no-one seemed fond of using the word 'died', which seemed so wrong on a bright, sunny day, when only the day before they had crowding around the group or admiring from afar - were three of the Aurors, one of whom had been a little too cocky and died as a result, and one of the Unspeakables.

Harry and the others were relieved that Charlie and Professor Figg weren't any of the deceased, but felt quite guilty for being thankful that it was other people who had died.

One of the Aurors had the misfortune to walk into a newly made Acromantula web. Though a fierce fight had resulted between the group and a small nest of about ten Acromantulas, which the squad had won, the fight was merely a distraction while the arachnids - much more intelligent than the average spider, Ernie Macmillan sighed - carried off the unfortunate Auror to another web for eating.

No-one wanted to dwell too long on what had happened to him, and his body hadn't been recovered.

The second and third Aurors had lingered too long at a tree that was apparently covered in ivy, which turned out to be Burningshoot; posing as only a parasite of trees, animals would pass right by it - at which it reveal its deadly nature, and shoot a small dry needle out from where it was hidden under its leaves. This would then boil the target's blood within seconds to fatal temperatures. It roots, hidden underground, but near the surface, would then erupt out of the earth and drag down the animal to feed upon. These bodies had been pulled up, but left with protection spells by the edge of the Forest, so as not to startle the others that had been waiting back at the school.

The Unspeakable - and this was the most interesting of the lot, for its lack of information - had been guarding the back of the group in case the daemon or any other beast attempted to come up from behind, and when the group had paused to investigate a possible hiding place, it was realised that he had disappeared. No-one was sure exactly when he had gone missing, as he had vanished soundlessly, but the different accounts put it at about ten PM.

This was the case the remaining Aurors and Unspeakables were focusing on, as it was most likely that this had been caused by the daemon. Retracing their steps had found no clues as to the whereabouts of the missing member, and the group had been forced to return before all were given up for lost.

Now, the score stood at four-nil to the Forest, and it was time to move onto the second half.

---

Harry whipped through Magical Languages, this time making sure he got his eyes narrowed correctly, which for this lesson was advanced prepositions, and discovered he had a talent for the pitching of the above-water screeches, though he felt a right idiot when he did them.

Defence lessons were rather subdued, as everyone not-very-subtly avoided mentioning the disastrous expedition into the Forest, and when Seamus finally slipped up and asked what colour Burningshoot was, Dean had no choice but to 'accidentally' stick Seamus' mouth shut. This lesson was now focused on self-defence rather than the general learning they had been doing earlier, and Harry wondered whether she knew the daemon was a Volucris.

Charms was the final lesson, when Harry managed to win back ten of the points he had lost from Gryffindor with an excellent Stupefy. All the teachers now seemed to be focusing on defensive spells, as Professor Flitwick announced that next lesson they would be studying basic shielding spells.

After lessons, Ron now took part in the finals of the Gryffindor Chess Tournament (Harry couldn't see what was so exciting about it, but anyway, he wasn't as tactically minded as Ron) and Hermione was sticking annoyingly close to Harry, reciting a few Bulgarian myths she had learned, tutting over how everyone had seemed to have stopped wearing SPEW badges, and even lamenting that she probably wouldn't get to be Head Girl in her seventh year, because the Ravenclaw Prefect was doing such a good job.

Harry didn't think it particularly skilful the way she quite conspicuously didn't mention the daemon, the dragon or last nights events, and though he knew it wasn't wise to prolong the agony, he didn't point it out.

When Harry finally escaped, thanks to Hermione suddenly remembering that she could add an extra four inches of writing onto one of her homework essays, he headed immediately for the dormitory to collect the Inforod and feed Ajax before returning to the disused classroom that he had first met Levina in.

Clasping each end of the cylinder, Harry read the title and author aloud, concentrating on the contents of the tube. Within a second, a jumble of information, feeling like a buzz of tiny bees under his skin, threw itself up the nerves in his hands and up his arms, spinal cord, brain, where it finally settled just a few seconds later.

Now that he had taken in this information, which was the easy part, the only work that needed to be done was to sort it. While Harry was frozen, unable to move his body, and only able to watch as the information revealed itself to him, he felt every 'page' imprinting itself on his memory. First there was a stream of writing, which must have been hundreds of pages long, but which passed in less than a quarter of a minute, and he could recall almost every sentence with perfect clarity. Then followed a series of pictures and sketches, with several paragraphs of explanations under each one. These images were even easier to remember than the words, and Harry found himself acknowledging each one instantly, and almost completely remembering all of them.

In less than half a minute, Harry had read a two-thousand page book, remembered practically the whole thing - and had a particularly nasty headache. He supposed he should have though of that before, though Levina could have at least warned him about it - but then, why would she know? She was an android, the sudden gaining of over two-thousand pages worth of knowledge was probably nothing more than a flicker to her, and the people of Atlantis would be used to used to 'reading' rods, so they would have grown accustomed to it until they didn't notice it. Or perhaps, it hadn't happened then; perhaps there was some genetic mutation which modern people had, that meant the rod would affect them differently than those without it. Who knew?

Sifting through the information more slowly, Harry 'flicked' through the images, glancing at each one and recalling the words underneath each ink- drawn picture.

If these were basic, he didn't want to know what advanced was - and he certainly didn't want to learn more than one type of sword. Harry continued running through the information for another hour, studying the illustrations and text, before returning to Hermione in the library, and then retiring to bed.

---

Tuesday passed without mention, except that the 'Operation: Daemonic Capture' group stayed at Hogwarts, the Aurors in the group a little less egotistical than before, and that Dumbledore announced that two people had come forwards to offer their services as Divination teacher ('Wonder how much he had to offer before they did?' Ron muttered), so the students would be returning to Divination lessons starting the next week.

Wednesday was much more interesting; as people were looking forwards to the fifty-eight days before the Christmas holidays began and the twenty-nine days until Halloween, Dumbledore now had a new announcement to make; that following on from the success of the previous ball a year before, a Holiday ball would be held on Wednesday the twenty-eighth of November (the day before the holidays began), and a Halloween party had been scheduled for the evening of the thirty-first of October, before the feast.

While many were excited at this news, Harry and Ron were just two of quite a few people who wished they had never heard the word 'party' or 'all' in their life. "At least I've got new dress robes for them," Ron sighed, trying to look on the bright side of things. This was true for Harry as well, but he still wouldn't be looking forwards to it.

The newspapers were still going wild with stories on the bungled hunt, posting short biographies of the 'heroic dead', who gave their lives to save the students. Harry didn't think it was particularly heroic - not only did their deaths not achieve anything, but two of them had died quite accidentally rather than in a brave battle, and the other had been disobeying orders and going too far ahead, as well as not paying attention to where he was going when he walked into the web - frankly, Harry thought he'd been asking for it.

A letter from Sirius arrived that day - apparently he was taking on some 'top-secret work' for Dumbledore, and wouldn't be able to write again until December. Deciding to write a reply at lunch, Harry went with the others to History, where they were finishing up theeffects of WWI on the Wizarding world.

---

At nine PM, Harry had to fight a mental struggle. On the one hand, he could skip the training with Levina, thus meaning she would miss any chances to kill him, or control him, or whatever she was trying to do. On the other hand, if he went, than he could confront her and find out why she lied about the daemon being Summoned.

As soon as his logical side pointed this out, Harry knew he had to do it, and as he left detention (chopping up flobberworms in the dungeons) he made his way to the Room of Requirement, rather than Gryffindor Tower.

Filch, Harry knew, was still refusing to let Mrs Norris prowl the corridors on her own, because of the same protective nature that made him attempt to kill Harry when he thought she had been killed. This made it a lot easier (as Fred and George had also found) to sneak out after curfew, as it was a lot easier to hear Filch coming and escape, than to keep listening out for the almost silent footfalls of the cat.

Because of this, Harry made it to the Room safely, even though he wasn't wearing his Cloak as he usually did - Levina was quite surprised by this though, as he didn't have any cloak to disguise himself with. As soon as Harry saw her, his face turned into a nasty scowl. "I talked to Leone a couple of days ago. I accused her of stealing the Myrrh Cage, and Summoning the daemon." he snapped out harshly. "And you know what? She denied it. And when she denied it, I realised I believed her - because she doesn't have any motive, and she knows what it's like to have a family member murdered, so why would she wish it on anyone else? But if she hasn't done anything, and you say she has, that either means you're wrong, or you're lying. But if there was a chance you were wrong, why would you be so definite about it being her? Which means you have to be lying, and I want to know why."

"Simple," replied Levina. "Because I wasn't lying: it's her. I know it is. You can't fake an empathic signature, and it was her signature around the school. It may not have been her who stole the Cage, I admit that, but it was definitely her who Summoned the daemon. I don't care what she says, she did it."

"Why?" Harry raged, "What reason would she have? There's no point to just - just killing people for no good reason! Even the Muggles who kill their classmates have a reason, no matter how small. Isn't every crime meant to have a motive? Because I don't know what hers is meant to be!"

"Maybe she's working for the Dark," Levina barked out. "Maybe she's gone completely insane. Maybe she was being controlled, and she doesn't remember it. I don't know, I don't care, the point is that she did it."

Harry was silent for a moment. "Controlled? You mean like - Imperius or something?"

Levina shrugged. "Melanie is a Possessor - usually she can only possess the bodies of animals, but using enough power, concentration, a few items to help, and a good length of time - it's possible she could put herself in Leon's body for a while. And when she left, Leone would just snap back to normal, unaware of what had been happening. It has been known to occur - and Leone's mind would probably already be weakened by the shock of her sister's murder. I'm not saying that's what happened, but it's a possibility."

Harry frowned, calming down. "Shouldn't we talk to her, then? See if - I don't know, she remembers where she put the Myrrh Cage, or something?"

"Right now?"

"Why not? It's past curfew, and the Room will stick doors to anywhere in the castle we need to go - and we need to find out where the Cage is, which we can only do by talking to Leone. Well?"

Levina looked at him. "We could, I suppose. It would be best if I weren't there - she might not talk in front of a complete stranger. You'd need a memory potion; something that could get right into the subconscious, as she wouldn't actively remember anything. And you should probably take her into here, rather than asking her in the dormitory - if any of the girls woke up, you'd have quite a bit of explaining to do."

"Right." Harry agreed, feeling much better. "Sorry for - well, accusing you and all."

The woman waved it aside. "Never mind that. I'll leave, and I'll be back in an hour. Don't forget to get a memory potion." With that, she marched past him and out of the door he had just come in by.

Turning around, Harry spotted a small bottle of crimson liquid, sitting on a table beside a door that had suddenly appeared. Impressed, Harry went closer to study it - it was the same type of memory potion that the Auror had given him after Trelawney. This 'need something and thou shalt receive' thing was great, Harry thought, as he grabbed the bottle and opened the newly appeared door to the girls' dormitory.

---

The fifth-year Gryffindor girls' dormitory was much like the boys, decorated in red and gold, with the same four-poster beds and bedside tables. There were only four beds in here, however - Hermione's, Parvati's, Lavender's and Leone's. Lavender and Parvati's beds were obvious by the posters of sleeping Wizard pop-stars above them, and Hermione's by several books on the child-rearing habits of the Chimaera.

Skipping these and heading directly for a bed that had a picture of Leone and Natasha on the bedside table next to it, Harry gently shook Leone awake. The girl twitched slightly, before waking up and looking quite surprised to see a boy in the dormitory. Before she could say anything, Harry held a finger to his lips, to show he wanted her to be silent. "I need to talk to you," he whispered, suddenly remembering how angry she had been at him before, and wondering whether she'd want to talk to him. "Can you come with me?"

Levina slowly moved upright so that she didn't wake any of the other girls. "Yes," she whispered in reply, "I can come. This may be stupid question but - wasn't there a wall there before?"

Harry looked back to the door. It was ajar, a sliver of light shining through. "That's how I got in here." he explained. "It's - well, I'll explain later. Here, come with me."

He stood back while Levina crept out of bed and pulled on a pair of shoes and a robe over her night-gown. Harry still hadn't changed for bed, having come straight from the dungeons, and he led her through the door, hoping it would have changed to something more comfortable - it probably wouldn't look very good to Leone, leading her into a room full of weaponry hanging on practically every part of the walls.

Unfortunately, it hadn't changed, but all Leone have it was a raised eyebrow, and a long look around the... usually... decorated room. "Right," said Harry, closing the door, though it didn't disappear. "Here's the thing - you see, you know I accused you of well, you know?"

Leone nodded, and but didn't say anything.

"Well," Harry said, wondering how to put it, before he gave up and bit the bullet. "You see, I thought it was you because I know this person who can sense empathic signatures - like magical signatures, except it comes when a lot of willpower is used instead of magic. Summoning daemons leaves an empathic signature instead of a magical one, and can't be faked. Well, my friend traced the signature from the daemon Summoning to you - I don't think you did it," he said hurriedly, as he saw Leone begin to become angry again. "It's just - well, you're descended from an Atlantean right, and you know about the Dark?"

Now Leone looked surprised. "You know as well?"

Harry nodded. "I'm descended from one of the Atlanteans as well," he explained, remembering that Dumbledore had said that Leone didn't know about the breeding program. "Anyway, because Melanie - one of the Dark - can possess people on occasion, not just animals, we think she may have possessed you and made you Summon the daemon while you were possessed." He looked closely at her to see how she was taking it.

Leone had an expression of horror and realisation. "I didn't tell anyone," she said in broken English, "but before lunch on the day of the murder, I was in alone the library, and I thought I fell asleep - I drifted out, and when I woke up, it was time to go in to the Hall, and I felt exhausted. You mean you think that was..."

Harry nodded. "That answers the question then. You were possessed; much easier than the Dark coming to Hogwarts themselves and -" he almost said 'trying to kill me themselves', but managed to stop himself. The less people who knew he was the Phoenix, the better.

"Anyway," he continued. "There's something else - even more important. You see, we can't track down the daemon and re-capture it, without the Myrrh Cage that was originally used to trap it. Because it was your body that Summoned the daemon, the memory is locked away inside you of where you hid the Cage. Do you think, if you took a memory potion, you could tell me where you hid it?"

Leone nodded, determined. "I cannot promise, but I will try." she swore, and Harry felt the heavy feeling on his heart lessen. Things were looking up! Taking the bottle of potion, Harry gave it to Leone. "Just take a swig," he explained. "It tastes fine, and should improve your memory - usually it only work for up to the last forty-eight hours, but as it's a potion that we need, it should go further back, up until the day of the murder."

Leone looked confused at this last sentence, but shrugged and swallowed the potion, tilting her head back so she could drink the entirety of the small bottle.

She stood trembling for a moment as the potion took effect, and gave a small jolt as her memories returned. "I remember!" she breathed. "It was like in a dream - I got up and went to the Divination Tower; Trelawney wasn't there, but I went straight to a ball on her desk. I remember it from the Defence lessons, the Myrrh Cage.

"I took it, and locked the door with a spell. Then I drew a shape on the floor with ash from the fire - a five-pointed star, with the Cage in the centre - and started saying words, ones that I didn't understand, that I'd never heard or read before. I did other things - cast spells, used the incense sticks as candles to put around the star - and then it came." She frowned. "It seems hideous now, frightening, but I wasn't scared then. The incense sticks went out, and a daemon appeared from out of the orb, as mist first, and then becoming solid. We just looked at each other, and then I cast a spell to clean away the ash, and the daemon just waited.

"I cleaned the incense sticks up, as though I'd never been there, and then left. And the strangest thing was that I didn't feel or think anyone during the entire time - I didn't concentrate on anything, I couldn't control myself, I didn't even think of trying to control myself. I was still carrying the Cage, so I took it outside -" (Here, Harry really started listening) "to the hut near the edge of the Forest, and put it up the chimney, out of sight."

"That's it!" Harry crowed in triumph. "That hut belongs to Hagrid, the Gamekeeper, but he's away, so no-one goes in there! And what better place to hide something than right under people's noses! We have to get it, now."

"Both of us? Now? But it's after curfew-"

"And we could save lives!" Harry broke in. "There's going to be another sweep of the Forest tomorrow, and more people could be killed. We won't be able to go out before breakfast, and you're the one who knows exactly where it is - and besides, it'll be safer if both of us are together. Have you got your wand?"

"It's in my robes," she told him, patting one of the pockets. "You're right, we should go now - but what about your friend? The one who can sense signatures? Should they not come with us?"

"It's not as though we're going into the Forest, just into the hut and back," Harry pointed out. "Anyway, she'll not be back for another," he checked his watch, "twelve minutes. We might as well go out and grab the Cage, and then head back. If I set a door up to lead outside, we can be back within a quarter of an hour."

Harry glanced around - yes, the door that led into the girls' dormitory had changed to one with a window that showed the Hogwarts grounds through it. "Perfect," he grinned. "I don't think we can go directly into the hut - it looks like it can only work inside the castle - but that'll do fine. Let's get going." he finished, and he took his wand out and held it ready. "Just in case," he explained, and Leone did the same, before they opened the door and left.

---

Wishing he had gone back to the dormitory to fetch his Winter cloak, Harry shivered in the bitter cold, and lit his wand with a 'Lumos' spell, so that they could see. Remembering Levina's help with the Unicorn, he muttered warming spells for the both of them, and feeling much warmer, looked around.

They were at the correct side of the school - almost directly in front of them was Hagrid's hut, desolate and uninhabited. "Come on," Harry said, leaving the door ajar so they could return, and starting forwards at a jog. "It'll take about ten minutes to get up there if we walk, so we'd better hurry."

Leone did as he said, and they sped up, not feeling the cold any more. They reached the door of the hut within five minutes at their run, to find it locked. "I used an unlocking spell when I hid the Cage," Leone recalled.

"Allow me," Harry said, and tapped the door. "Alohomora."

The lock clicked, and Harry pushed the door open, allowing the two to enter. They faced the chimney, and looked at each other, before shrugging. Kneeling before it, Harry squinted and held his lit wand up the chimney. "I can't see anything," he told the girl, staring up.

"Further to the left, and up some more." Leone remembered. There was a scraping sound of a metallic object somewhere behind him. Harry didn't turn round, but paused. "Did you hear that?" he asked in a whisper.

"Yes," said Leone. "That was the sound of a gullible boy being knocked out by a cooking pot to the head." And with that, the gullible boy was knocked out by a cooking pot to the head. The last thing Harry heard before the darkness claimed him was Leone reflecting, "Surely I wasn't _that_ good an actress?"

---

Darkness. Blackness. Not nothingness, or emptiness, or a vacuum, because there was something: the never-ending gloom of his own head. 'Ow." though Harry, mournfully. 'Well, that's the last time I believe someone's innocence just because of what they say.' It suddenly occurred to him that it might be the last time he did anything, and this led on to the subject of whether or not he was dead.

He decided against that, because when he thought about it hard enough, he could feel his body, and he had a splitting headache - and he was pretty sure that the dead didn't get headaches, because their nerves didn't work.

Feeling slightly relieved by this, he ran through the events leading up to his being knocked unconscious. Firstly, he had been so sure that Leone had been possessed - though in hindsight, that didn't seem like what had happened - that he had not thought of the fact that maybe she was just nuts - which in hindsight, did seem pretty much like what had happened. Then he had foolishly believed every word she had said, even though he knew she wasn't under a truth potion, and - not even following her, but actually leading her into a place where no-one else was, in the dead of night, he had turned his back on her and allowed himself to be beaten down.

If Mad-Eye Moody could have seen him now, he would have had a fit. 'Constant vigilance!' Harry recalled him saying, and felt worse than before.

Trying to figure out where he was, Harry forced his mind back into his body, where the headache was starting to lessen. Keeping his eyes closed, Harry tested his limbs to make sure he could get up if he needed, and found that he could barely move his arms or legs more than a few millimetres. He was tied to something; some type of smooth, upright stone.

Opening his eyes, he looked down. The grey boulder, though tall, appeared to be only a couple of feet thick; four holes had been bored into it. Holding his left hand was a rope the went around the left side of the rock, and back through a hole just to the right of his hand, holding it tightly. The same thing had been done to his right hand, and each of his ankles. It was also obviously morning, which Harry could work out due to the weak sunlight trickling through the small gaps in the canopy, and overhead it was even more obvious - well, he was in a clearing, after all.

"Wonderful," Harry muttered, blowing a bit of hair out of his eyes. The bottom of the rock went underground, so he could hardly dig it out with magic. Harry guessed that it was the Forbidden Forest, as he was pretty sure Leone hadn't been carrying a Portkey on her.

"Do you like this?" her voice suddenly shot out, and Harry looked over to the right. Leone was just coming into view, holding her wand in one hand, and a thick, old-looking book in the other. "My daemon wasn't just running around aimlessly, you know. I ordered it to dig up the biggest rock it could find, and set it here. It took a long time to sort out, and a few smoothing spells to make sure it was flat enough to tie someone to, but it was worth it."

"So in summary, you _are_ nuts." Harry said conversationally, and tried to twist his left hand out of the rope, failing miserably. Leone laughed.

"Perhaps to you I am. And by the way, even if you could escape from the ropes, you'd never make it out of the forest. Not only would you be unarmed, when I have a wand, but there's also my daemon to contend with, all the other dangerous plants and beasts, the fact you don't even know which direction to go in - you wouldn't survive."

Not pointing out that he wasn't likely to survive here, Harry asked, "Where's my wand?"

Leone shrugged. "Just in case you escaped somehow, I didn't want you to get it back, so..." She nodded her head to the ground near one of the trees, and Harry felt like crying. His wand - his beautiful wand, that he'd bought in Diagon Alley, with a tail-feather from Fawkes, that had saved his life against Voldemort - was lying, snapped in half in the grass. The red feather could be seen between the two pieces, earth caking it.

Leone stepped gracefully over to it, and then - with an absence of the previous grace - brought her foot down on the remains, twisting it violently. The wood snapped, breaking again, and Harry almost felt physical pain as he winced and screwed up his eyes so that he couldn't see.

When he looked again, the two pieces were now one large piece, several small pieces, and hundreds of splinters and tiny, jagged parts, littering the ground. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, and concentrated on what was important at the moment - his life. "What do you want with me?" he demanded, wishing more than anything that some accidental magic would kick in right now, and Apparate him somewhere safe.

Leone snorted. "Want with you? Well, I thought that would be obvious." She stalked over from his broken, shattered wand and stood ten feet away, her face twisted in a snarl. "My sister and I were so happy to be sent over here. We would learn about a different culture, make new friends, and then head home, where we'd grow up and live happily ever after. As you know, it didn't quite turn out like that."

She smiled humourlessly. "The Dark apparently though it would be a great idea to set a couple of spies in Hogwarts, to look for the Phoenix - oh, don't look like that. Yes, we're not meant to know about the breeding program, but we do. The Atlantean I'm descended from was a servant in the royal palace, and she heard the prophecy of the Phoenix; and I set up my own little investigation after my sister was found to have been murdered.

"Anyway, the Dark decided that my sister and some other girl would be good to stick as spies. Unfortunately for them, my sister - and I assume the other girl - wouldn't go along with it willingly, so they murdered them, and stuck their servants into their bodies. All along, I talked with my sister, studied with my sister and joked with my sister, unaware that she was something I didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Then, we arrived at Hogwarts. It was then that 'Natasha' started acting strangely; disappearing off, spending time with a girl she hardly knew, rather than her own twin; and then one day, I was called up to the headmaster's office. I didn't know why, but I went up anyway, and there I was told that my sister had been brutally slaughtered," she screeched, teeth bared in fury, "and that the thing in her body would be taken away for interrogation - which I knew meant torture. My sister, not only killed, but her body didn't even get rest, because it was taken over and then was to be cut open until the Elemental inside it answered the Unspeakables' questions."

Her eyes drove into Harry's own. "And who was it, that was the Phoenix - the reason that my sister 'had' to be murdered? Who was it that heard the Elementals' plots, and informed his superior? None other than Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived. If you hadn't been the Phoenix, the Dark wouldn't have needed a spy at Hogwarts. They wouldn't have killed my sister -"

"Then blame them!" Harry yelled in anger. "I can't help being what I am, who I'm born to! I never asked to be the Phoenix, and I reported your sister because she was planning to kill me! Blame the Dark! They're the ones who killed your sister, and without them, there would be no such thing as the Phoenix!"

Leone replied by punching Harry in the stomach. "Shut up," she seethed as Harry gasped and tried to regain his breath. "Just shut up. I know what I'm doing, and I'm getting revenge. I don't care if the Dark win because you're dead, I don't care if they kill me, I don't care if anyone kills me. All I care about now is seeing you pay."

'She really is crazy,' Harry realised. 'She's blaming me for something I had no control over, just because I'm an easier target than the Dark, and she's refusing to listen to logic. She'll have no qualms about killing me.'

Struggling harder against his bonds, Harry played for as much time as he could. "So what exactly are you going to do to me?" he asked, hoping this question wouldn't provoke her. "I mean, I doubt you kept me alive and explained all this to me just so you can suddenly use Avada Kedavra on me."

Leone laughed unpleasantly. "That's right. I have much bigger plans for you. You see, it wasn't just a few Atlantean people who escaped the sinking of the city. People took things with them - mostly personal belongings, things they could grab in a hurry; and Durmstrang collects as many Dark magic books as it can. Two or three are ones that were rescued from before the island went down, and this is one of them."

She held up the book she was carrying, so that Harry could see the title. 'Black Magic for Illusionists'. "Translated, of course," she said airily. "By one of the escaped Atlanteans, no doubt. There's an awful lot of very interesting spells and rituals in it, and one of them is particularly interesting.

"You almost ruined everything, you know - I was so shocked when you accused me; how could you have known? But I managed to convince you I wasn't, and I hoped that would be that.

"Then you came to me last night, and asked me to come with you. I though you were going to confront me with new evidence, but instead you gave me all I needed to trap you. First you explained your friend could sense empathic signatures - and I knew you had nothing more concrete than that to pin the murder on me; and then you gave me an explanation that I'd been possessed. All I had to do was play along. After that, you invited me to get you alone in a deserted place! It was so easy, I was half expecting a trap.

"But there wasn't one, and it was even easier to get you here with the help of my daemon. You know, it's willing to do practically anything, and all in exchange for me freeing it from the Cage? You won't find the Myrrh Cage, by the way; it's well hidden, and not in that hut.

"After tying you, I went back through that door, and returned to the dormitory, and brought this book back. You see, I don't believe in pointless pain - killing you, torturing you, what would it accomplish? You'd be dead, but so would my sister, and then I'd be sentenced to death back in Bulgaria for murder.

"Instead, I'm going to do something much better. There's more to Forbidden magic than just Summoning daemons, you know, and the Atlanteans were masters of all kinds of magic; Light, Dark, Forbidden, everything. Black magic refers to both Dark and Forbidden magic, and this book contains spells, potions and rituals of both. There's one particular Forbidden spell that caught my attention; a spell that brings out the power of an Animancer."

Harry didn't like the sound of this. "What's an Animancer?"

"Glad you asked," Leone grinned. "If you think of a Necromancer as Dark, than an Animancer is the Light version. Instead of raising the dead as mindless slaves, the Animancer raises them as they were before they died, healing them of fatal wounds and restoring their lives. However, the ability hasn't come around in over a thousand years, and is presumably lost. Now, if you were a natural Animancer, you would be able to raise the dead with just a bit of concentration, and a minute or two chanting.

"Now, this ritual is one based on the abilities of an Animancer, except you don't have to be one to use it. Of course, as I'm not an Animancer, I won't be able to do the 'concentrate and chant' thing; to make up for the lack of ability, I'll need a lot of power to make up for it.

"An atom bomb generates amazing power, because of the power resulting from one half of an atom being split from the other half. However, that power is nothing compared to the amount generated when a soul is split from a body - or more precisely, a sentient being's death. This spell will help me harness that energy to bring someone - my sister - back to life, good as new. And you, Potter, are going to be the important ingredient."

Harry couldn't help it. He shrieked. "You're going to sacrifice me?"

"Wow, you catch on fast," Leone said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, I'm going to sacrifice you. Your death will finish the ritual; it will take about half an hour, but as no-one will be coming to find you, there's no need for me to wor- ah!" she broke off as before their eyes, the daemon entered the clearing, holding a body and breathing hard.

The body was of Natasha Nikastal, sustained by a preserving charm, though she had been dead for goodness knows how long. She was wearing a long, black dress, and Harry realised that she had been buried in it. Her glazed eyes were open, staring at nothing and everything, and her black hair hung limply from her head.

"As you can see, my loyal servant has returned," Leone joked, seeming triumphant. "Natasha wasn't buried yet - diplomatic matter, a foreigner being murdered, so she was being kept preserved around her torture - and healed, I see - at the British Ministry. It was a simple matter for my daemon to get in last night; the security must be terrible; find her, and leave. When my sister returns from the dead, I'm sure she'll be only too happy to help me avenge her murder - and with the help of my daemon, we'll up the stakes a little and get rid of the lot of you self-serving idiots. Dumbledore who sentenced her to be interrogated, the Unspeakables who tortured her body, everyone."

She directed the daemon to place Natasha softly on the ground, and then went behind the rock Harry was tied to, returning with a large box, which she set down and opened, taking out various candles, herbs, vials, a jagged dagger - Harry struggled even more against the ropes, but to no avail.

And then, out of the blue, he remembered - Techno-Magic!

Thanking God that he wouldn't need a wand, Harry searched his mind for a spell that would sever the ropes, but he was distracted by Leone saying something; "Oh - and just so you don't use accidental magic, or attract anyone's attention by screaming," she said coolly, and then held up her wand; "Stupefy."

---

Back at Hogwarts, a full-scale search had broken out. It was now eleven AM, and Harry and Leone had disappeared. The timing was unknown, but they knew Harry had vanished sometime after his detention. As the students were shut safely up in their dormitories, in case the Death Eaters/Daemon/Dark/Unknown creature attempted to take them, the adults met again in the Great Hall.

"We've checked the South wing, but he isn't in there," Doris Bludgeon informed the others.

Embeller Adoric and two of the Aurors had searched the West wing and found nothing, several other Aurors had gone to Hogsmeade in case he had sneaked out during the night, and the others had searched over the rest of the school, the Quidditch pitch, even the Prefect's bathroom.

The portraits were searching from room to room, and one framed picture was being questioned after she swore she had been awake the previous night, and had seen Harry going in the wrong direction, instead of going to Gryffindor Tower. Apart from her, no-one had any idea what had happened to either, and no clues had been found.

The Aurors, though concerned about the Boy-Who-Lived's safety, were more concerned about Leone - there had already been one student sent back home (or so they had been told) because she had been hurt - and if there was a kidnapping, or even possible murder on their hands, it could turn into an international incident.

While downstairs, the adults reorganised to see whether there was anywhere they hadn't searched, up in the Gryffindor Tower, rumours and theories were flung about like hot potatoes.

"It was Death Eaters!" many cried, while others yelled, "The daemon!"

Several clung to the idea that it was someone who had thought Harry had killed Cedric, though everyone pointed out that if that was so, why had Leone been taken as well.

Some said Leona and Harry had eloped - though that idea was almost completely quashed when it was pointed out that Harry seemed pretty angry with Leone a few days ago. Only one person remained believing this story, insisting it was a lover's tiff.

Some said grimly that Harry had been kidnapped, either by Sirius Black, or someone who just wanted to hold him hostage, and that Leone, sneaking out of bed, had witnessed this, and so been silenced.

But there was no proof of any of these ideas, and there was no mention anywhere of scouring the Forest to search for the missing teenagers, and so no chance of them being found.

Even Levina, petting the Unicorn as she stood in Thetford Forest, wondered why Harry had left the Room before she returned, and when she would next see him - though the thought that she would never see him again didn't enter her head.


	10. Chapter 10: Weather

Chapter 10: Weather

---

"It's not a cult - it's a collective." - The tag-line of the Karma Army 

---

Stunned, Harry discovered, was not the same as being asleep. He was aware of the passing of time, he could think, but he couldn't feel anything, see, hear, or move. Unfortunately for him, he had never thought to look up any Techno-Magic spells to wake yourself up if you happened to be Stunned by an insane Illusionist.

'_This is great_,' Harry thought. '_I'm going to die, they'll only find my body when they do another search for the daemon - that's if it doesn't eat my remains - I'll never get to explain to Ron or Hermione why I kept disappearing, Levina will never know what happened to me, the Dark will never be defeated, Ajax will die the moment I do - hang on... Ajax?_' As he thought of his Familiar, a spark of hope sprang up in him, as he remembered reading the book that Ginny had given him for his birthday - Familiars could be possessed by their creators.

Because part of his soul resided in Ajax, he could switch into his Familiar's body at will - not only would it mean an escape from the body that was tied up here, which meant he could alert people to the daemon, but it also meant that because only part of his soul would remain in his body after he possessed Ajax, even if Leone killed him before he could get a warning out, then it would surely not generate enough power for her to be able to reanimate her sister, and start her little murder spree on the others.

He did as '_Familiar Animals, Familiar Spirits_' chapter four had said, and focused entirely on finding a mental 'string' between himself and Ajax, which joined the two pieces of the soul, and when he did so, began to follow it.

---

Physical distance, Harry also discovered, was no matter. In what seemed like mere seconds, he found himself perching on top of one of the knobs on the top of his own four-poster bed in the boy's dormitory.

He gave himself a moment to acclimate himself to this strange new body, before spreading his wings and twisting his head jerkily to look around the room. Dean was finishing some homework on his bed, but the others must have been down in the Common Room, Harry decided. Unfortunately, the door was closed, and it was doubtful that a magpie would be able to get it open.

Flapping his wings a couple of times, Harry reminded himself of how he'd seen Hedwig, Ajax, and even Buckbeak fly, and leaped off the bed, catching himself before he hit the ground, and flapping madly to gain elevation, tilting his wings so that he soared out of the window.

How could he have thought this would be hard? This was easy, wonderful, natural; it came to him as though he had been doing it all his life, as though he'd been catching the Snitch with a pair of wings rather than a broom.

Sweeping down to one of the open windows that led into a corridor, Harry began to make plans. Firstly, he had to get the Aurors to follow him. That would be pretty damn hard, as they'd think he was just some pretty white bird. Wishing he'd brought Ron and Hermione, so they could explain that this was Harry's Familiar and might be able to lead them to him, Harry glided along the corridor. Well, perhaps he could go to - Dumbledore? Of course, Dumbledore would be more likely than most to notice something suspicious about the bird.

His sharp eyes ever-watching, Harry beat his wings a few more times to gain momentum, and hurtled back outside, through another of the windows lining the hall. He began to go higher, to make it into Dumbledore's office, but the exceptional hearing of his new form caught the headmaster's voice lower.

Pinpointing the location of the source as the entrance hall, Harry shot down and tucking in his wings and shutting his eyes, dived _through_ one of the stained glass windows, thanking God that the glass was enchanted to not cut if broken. Although it didn't hurt him, this made quite an entrance, because it wasn't every day that a brilliant-white bird smashed through a Multi-coloured window into a crowded hall for no apparent reason.

Or at least, the Aurors didn't seem to think so, because they shot several Stunning spells his way.

Harry's new bout of good luck held out - his small form, made smaller by him tucking in his wings, meant that most of the spells missed, and the ones that wouldn't have, he easily dodged. Most of the Aurors stopped firing when they saw it was just a bird that had broken in, and not a psychotic daemon, but a couple continued shooting out curses as though they were afraid that the bird was actually a daemon in a bizarre disguise.

Ignoring them, and weaving around to dodge their spells, Harry was only too thankful when Dumbledore ordered them to stop. "Remember the importance of the Magpie," Dumbledore said cryptically, which the Unspeakables and Heads of Houses understood, though the Aurors and other teachers didn't have a clue what he was talking about, and several obviously thought he was going a bit insane.

Harry fluttered down to land on the banister of the stairs, heart beating wildly. "How is _that_ a magpie?" one of the Aurors pointed out disbelievingly. "It's entirely white - and a bit of silver."

"The shape, size and tail give it away, even if it's the wrong colour," Dumbledore answered, watching Harry. "I don't know why it's strangely coloured, but I'm sure there's some reason for it to be here."

Harry bobbed his head in an unmistakable nod, and cawed in as urgent a way as he could, before flapping his wings as if to take flight. "I think it wants us to follow it," observed Professor McGonagall.

Snape snorted. "Probably a trap."

Dumbledore, however, took charge. "Will the teachers continue guarding the school, and look after the students. Professors McGonagall, Snape and Figg, will you and the Ministry workers please remain." Harry watched as the teachers left, but far too slowly for his liking. He was going to be sacrificed in less than an hour, and he didn't even know where in the Forest his body was being kept!

When the others had left, Dumbledore peered closely at the Familiar, and Harry took flight and landed again on the floor in front of the door. "Do you want us to follow?" the headmaster asked, and if a bird could roll its eyes, Harry would have. Honestly! Lassie never had this much trouble.

As Harry bobbed his head again, most of the assembled broke out into smiles of relief, and the Auror closest to the door opened it so he could fly out. Spreading his wings, Harry soared into the air again, skimming low across the ground at first, and then gaining height. He flew quite slowly so that the others could follow, outside the castle and towards Hagrid's hut. '_After all_,' Harry decided, '_maybe I can retrace where Leone took me from there_.'

He sped up as he flew, the urgency of the situation hitting him harder than the others; after all, they weren't the ones who were going to be killed. Well, not yet, anyway.

As he reached just outside Hagrid's hut, he flew past without stopping. Feeling the tug of something he followed it, and as he got closer, he realised that he was following the link between his soul. He was more dependant on the human side than the human side on the Familiar, which meant Ajax's body, he could sense when he was getting closer or further from his own body.

Putting on an extra burst of speed, and feeling his muscles beginning to tire, Harry raced forward, adjusting his angle every now and then to follow the link. If his time-keeping was right, it was about twenty minutes since Leone said the spell would take thirty minutes to complete - there was now about ten minutes left, and Harry still didn't know how long it was going to take to reach her.

The link was growing more powerful now, though, as he gained speed and nearness, and just as Harry felt his wings starting to fail, his morale soared and gave him an extra burst of energy, as in front of him, he could see the clearing. Between the trees, he could just spot the rock that he was tied to, and standing before it were Leone and the daemon - and Leone was walking towards his soulless body with the ceremonial dagger.

Using this last reserve of power, Harry gave a shrill scream that he would have thought impossible for birds to make, and as Leone snapped her around to look, burst into her field of vision and brought his talons up to attack her eyes, beating his wings in her face. Leone screamed in shock rather than pain, dropping the weapon as she was startled, and reaching down again to grab it. Behind him, Harry vaguely heard the Ministry workers and teachers arriving, along with gasps of surprise and horror at the daemon.

The daemon!

As he remembered, Harry fled upwards, just in time to miss the claws that lunged for his fragile neck. He felt the air as the daemon flashed under him though, and made it higher and forwards to one of the branches of a tree on the edge of the clearing, where he clung on and tried to rest as he watched the fight below.

The absence of a Myrrh Cage to trap the daemon meant that the Unspeakables and Aurors were having to fight it to the death; thankfully, Embeller's wand was specially equipped to be fighting daemons, and though some of his spells were weakened, they weren't being repelled. Few of the others' spells were getting through, though.

The book lay discarded on the ground, where Leone had left it after finishing her chants, before she took the knife. As Snape cut Harry's human body's bonds and attempted an Enervate spell, Harry got a flash of inspiration.

Snagging hold of the soul link, Harry flung himself as fast as possible back into his own body, snapping his eyes open. "Potter, ten points fro-" Snape began, but Harry was up and running, leaving the Potions professor kneeling in confusion on the grass.

Falling to grab the book, Harry desperately flicked through the pages. This had to be the same book that Leone had learned how to Summon daemons from; this must be where she had learned Forbidden magic. Finally finding the page with daemon Summoning on, Harry scanned through. '_To finde how to banish thy creature back beyonde thee veil of life, see thee spelle of Cantworth, on thee next page_.' it read, and Harry turned the page and began to read. It was all perfect; the book was '_Black Magic for Illusionists_', which was what Harry was; and here it was, the spell that instead of trapping or killing the daemon would return it to - Hell? The Underworld? Who knew.

This spell had been translated into English as well as the rest of the book. Harry held the volume upright and began to chant, "By Azazel and Gabriel, by Loki and Michael -"

Unheeded, the fight went on behind Harry, as one Auror suddenly found their throat slashed open, and dropped to the floor, his mouth open in a surprised exclamation.

" - to send this unholy creature elsewhere, to eliminate it's evil presence -"

The daemon's one thought was to protect its Summoner, that she might provide more prey for it, more plans rather than to just run and hunt, and it turned to knock aside another Auror that held the now-Stunned Leone, grabbing her and turning to flee, almost at full-speed into the trees -

" - in the names of Naoze and Aisiivou, you are banished." There was no dramatic light, no sudden rumbling of the earth - one second the daemon was a second from leaving the clearing, and the next it stumbled, shook, and gave a yelp that was cut off when it blinked out of existence.

Harry, suddenly feeling a lot older than he was, staggered to pull himself to his feet, the adrenaline rush wearing off and reality sinking back in as he surveyed that two Aurors were dead, all who had been fighting the daemon were wounded, and - wait... "Where's Leone?" Harry asked in panic, but Dumbledore nodded reassuringly, and mended some of Figg's cuts with a flick of his wand.

"The daemon was carrying her when it disappeared; she went along with it. May I ask what that spell was?"

Harry gulped and put the book down. "It's the book Leone used to Summon the daemon - she was the one who stole the Myrrh Cage, and Summoned the Volucris out of it." He noticed a few aghast expressions at this. "She wanted to get revenge for her sister. I think she'd gone a bit mad," he admitted, feeling a bit guilty for saying so.

Not caring who saw him use wandless magic - he was the Boy-Who-Lived, dammit, he was a mystery enough already, Harry set the book alight. Unfortunately, it didn't catch fire very well; the banishment must have taken more out of him than he's thought, because one corner gave a splutter before becoming a bit singed.

McGonagall approached, and accepted the book from him, looking at the banishment before frowning. "Which spell did you use?"

"The spell of Cantworth," Harry replied wearily, just wanting some sleep.

McGonagall tapped the page. "No - the words are wrong. Cantworth, it says here, is the spell of banishment to 'beyond the veil'. You mentioned Azazel in your words - that's the spell underneath, the spell of Gaernick - banishment to another place." She looked up at Harry. "You cast the wrong spell. It's still out there, somewhere," she said grimly. "You only transported it somewhere else."

This was almost too much for Harry. His eyes widened, and his heart started racing again. "Where to?"

"It says a random place," McGonagall said bleakly, scanning the spell. "It looks like we won't find out where, until we manage to find _them_. God knows what they're going to do."

Here, Bludgeon broke in. "We'll send out an alert to watch out for either of them," she said, as the rest of the Aurors used _Mobilicorpus _on the dead. "As soon as anyone in any country spots them, we'll be told. We'll release Leone's picture into the Muggle news as well, so there's a good chance we'll find her."

As the teachers and Aurors began to talk 'business'; what to do with Natasha's corpse, explaining Harry's disappearance, and what to tell the students about Leone, Harry blanked them out. There was a attempted murderer and a daemon running loose _somewhere_ in the world, and he doubted Leone would just give up and disappear. They'd be back as soon as Leone had made another plan - he knew that much. The question was when, not if, and without Figg's Myrrh Cage, there was little chance of defeating the daemon.

Realising McGonagall had set the spellbook down by the stone, Harry reached out for it again, and taking a deep breath, Harry screwed his eyes up and with the help of the Familiar's focusing abilities, managed to cast a final Techno-Magic spell to destroy the book, before he finally slipped back to the floor, unconscious.

---

The use of his entire store of magic put its toll on Harry; when he awoke in the Hospital Wing with his bedside table filled with a pile of sweets and chocolates, get-well cards and flowers, he was quick to notice that the calendar on the wall read Monday the eighth of October. He had been unconscious for almost the entire Thursday, and all the way to Monday afternoon - five days.

Pulling himself into a sitting position and wincing at his back, sore from being lain on for the past five days, Harry jumped at the sound of the door being opened. It was Dumbledore, the familiar twinkle back in his eyes and dressed in garish yellow robes.

"Quite astounding, Harry." the headmaster mused humorously. "Usually you save the day during the last term of the school year, but it appears you've broken the tradition."

Harry couldn't resist a small smile at that. "Professor - what did you tell the others? Has Leone been seen yet?"

The headmaster swept the hem of his robes up and sat down at the foot of Harry's bed. "I'm afraid that neither Leone, nor her daemon, have been caught yet, though Leone _was_ sighted in Germany several days ago.

"The students have been informed that Leone was a Death Eater, and was attempting to kidnap you to take you to Voldemort; based on that evidence, the Minister has been 'forced' to admit Voldemort's return - a perfect opportunity for him, for which we'd like to thank you. However, I'm afraid that much of the story is missing, and I hope you could fill some blanks in for us, if possible."

Harry nodded, hoping he wouldn't have to tell him about Levina. "Which parts of the story?"

"Firstly," Dumbledore said, as Harry lowered himself slightly, "what Leone was doing with her sister's body; why she Summoned the daemon; why she kidnapped you; and also, what the bird was that led us to you."

"Right," exclaimed Harry, thankful that he had avoided the question of '_how _did she kidnap you'. "She had that book of Forbidden magic - the one that I destroyed - and it had a spell to raise the dead; like an Animancers' power, she said. She was going to use it to bring her sister back, but she needed a sacrifice..."

The explanation took little time, and Dumbledore listened with only a hint of surprise as Harry explained how he found a Familiar creation spell in Knockturn Alley, how he created a Familiar and then possessed it - and how Leone had tricked him into thinking she was being controlled.

"Professor, what about my wand?" Harry asked suddenly, fearful of the answer.

Here, Dumbledore looked apologetic. "I'm afraid the wood was broken beyond repair - but the feather was still in one piece. Mr Ollivander is making a new wand with it, and it should be ready within the week. Ah, and talking of the week," he smiled, "you'll have to meet the new Divination teacher; Professor Carnaena."

Harry felt a flash of recognition - he knew that name from somewhere, he was sure of it - but he quickly shrugged it off. "When will I be able to go back to lessons?" he finally decided upon asking, and Dumbledore seemed amused at his choice of question.

"Wednesday seems the likely date," he answered. "Madam Pomfrey was quite insistent that she keep you for at least a day after you awake, and your wand-wood will have to be replaced - it should be returned to you, as I said, sometime this week, though I'm not sure when."

Harry nodded and relaxed, thankful that the good side balanced out the negative of Leone and the daemon's escape - his wand would be good as new, Ajax was fine, he would survive, a new Divination teacher - well, he wasn't sure whether that was good or bad, but he might as well look forward to it - and of course, he'd stopped the murders - for now, at least.

---

It was another hour before Ron and Hermione were finally allowed in to see Harry. As soon as he sat up to greet them, Hermione flung her arms around his neck and attempted to suffocate him (well, that was what it felt like, anyway) and Ron winced before attempting to drag her away.

"You all right, mate?" he asked sympathetically, and Harry grinned.

"A bash on the head from being hit with a cooking pot, but otherwise not a scratch," Harry explained. "Mainly just exhaustion, but Madam Pomfrey wants me to stay the rest of the day, _and_ tomorrow." He pulled a face to show exactly what he thought of her fussing.

"Right... Harry, we've - well, we've got something to tell you." Ron stumbled, looking uncomfortable, his ears beginning to glow red. Hermione fidgeted and suddenly found the floor very interesting. "Last Saturday," Ron began, before finally biting the bullet. "We followed you to that training room, and used some spells to listen in."

Harry sat stock still, his face suddenly turned as white as an Opaleye's scales. "Really?" he choked out.

Hermione nodded almost invisibly, before bursting out, "We didn't want to, but you weren't going to tell us anything, and we _had_ to. If you got hurt, or if you were under a spell or something, then you would have needed our help." She quickly added, "We're meant to be your friends, and you didn't tell us a thing."

Now it was Harry's turn to be uncomfortable. "Sorry," he muttered, knowing it wasn't enough.

For Hermione and Ron however, it was; they could see he meant it. "Do you really think we haven't been through enough together to think you're _not _sorry?" Ron snorted. "As if!"

"Except," added Hermione immediately, "that you've still got a lot of explaining to do. Firstly, how did that room appear?" To this Harry, knowing he couldn't keep the Room a secret any longer, admitted what he knew of it.

"We just wanted a room to train in," he mused, "Neither of us specified anything about no-one else being able to find us when we were inside, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to find it."

From that, the questions led on to who the woman was - at this, Harry told them her name and that she was training him, but apologised for not being allowed to say more; moving on they asked about what Techno-Magic was (Harry could remember only mentioning that the once, and confessed that he couldn't answer this either, or it would have serious repercussions), and at the question about why she had mentioned Atlantis, Harry wove a tale of her collecting items from lost civilisations, and her coming across a collection of the rods.

After those, Harry explained about how his tutor could sense when Forbidden magic had been cast, and how she knew that Leone had summoned the daemon - though he informed them that this was because she was a Death Eater, sticking to Dumbledore's story and wishing he didn't have to - and how she had eventually tricked him into thinking she was being controlled (by Imperius), and captured him to sacrifice.

"I couldn't have done it without Ajax," Harry finished, grinning, once he had completed the story of his possession of the Familiar. "But what happened while I was up here?"

Now it was his friends' turn to illustrate the last few days; Dumbledore and the others had returned to the school, reputedly with bodies, as those watching from windows said; some hours later, the students were allowed out of their dormitories and into the Great Hall, where it was announced that thanks to Harry Potter, the daemon had been taken care of, ('You got an award for Special Services to the school,' Ron said glumly. 'That's another one to polish when I get detention again.') and that Leone had summoned it. The Aurors and Unspeakables had performed a quick sweep of the Forest, finding nothing, and - strangely enough - not only had Fudge admitted that Voldemort was back, now that it was 'proven' that Leone had been a 'Death Eater', but the Daily Prophet was singing Harry's praises as the hero who saved the school. "They're a bit late," Hermione grumbled, but still looked pleased.

Just as they were getting started on reading who the cards were from, and Ron was ripping the packet from the third packet of Every Flavour Beans they were sharing, Madam Pomfrey returned, insisting that visiting times were over, and they would have to leave. The pair were shoved from the room as Ron managed to yell that Harry had won fifty points for Gryffindor, before the door slammed behind them.

---

On Wednesday, Harry received his wand. Though it contained the same core as before, the wood had been replaced with snowflower wood, a magical tree that was often mistaken for willows, and was now twelve inches in length instead of eleven. "It had to be a new one, so it would work. A second-hand one would never be as good as your old one," Ollivander explained as Harry gave it an experimental wave, and accidentally broke the flower vase.

Snowflower wood was a pale white colour, slick and smooth with no knots in it. Harry found it quite attractive, especially the slightly rounded point it came to as it got longer and narrowed, unlike his old holly one, which stayed the same thickness the entire way. It was light and strong, but flexible - excellent for conjuring, wards and shields.

Wednesday was also the day that Harry returned to his classes, and he was glad to note that only two people that he passed in the corridors still gave him funny looks, the rest treating him like a returning champion - although that might have been because Gryffindor were now bumped up to second place behind Ravenclaw in the House Cup, thanks to the fifty points he had been awarded.

After lunch, the trio seated themselves in the library to lament over the (almost exactly) fifty days until the holidays, when they would be heading off to watch the Annual Swedish Broom Race.

"I owled Victor about it, and since he's competing, we can stay with his family instead of having to get our own accommodation!" Hermione babbled excitedly, to which Ron turned sullen and muttered 'How nice for us'.

"Oh," Hermione remembered suddenly, "Hagrid wrote to us while you were unconscious; I don't think he's very up-to-date with the news, because he didn't seem to know you were hurt, but there's a date set for the wedding - December sixth. So that's during the holidays, two days before we go out to Sweden."

Harry promptly felt more cheerful. He'd never been to any wedding, let alone a Wizarding one, and he had a feeling it would be a little different than most Muggle ones.

Of course, Hagrid was still away on his 'secret business' (which Harry was quite certain was talking to the Giants), which meant that the Gryffindors were now learning about Fwoopers, a subject that quickly became tedious without Hagrid's enthusiasm and interesting facts to sustain it.

Even the meeting with Levina that night - longer than usual, since he had not only training, but also his story of the meeting with Leone to go through - was less fun than it could have been, and though Harry had what he would have though was enough excitement to last for several years, he found himself wishing for something to happen.

Strangely enough, it did - there was something interesting the next day, but the really shocking thing was to come on Friday, and it made Harry feel a lot, lot worse.

---

The next day after lunch was a single lesson of Divination before Potions. This, though the others had already met the new teacher on Monday, was the first time that Harry would meet her. "How is she?" he asked Hermione anxiously before she went to Arithmancy, and Ron to History.

"A bit no-nonsense, which is good," said Hermione, thinking. "I don't think she's a Seer herself, but she knows about proper visions, and how to See things and everything - don't give me that look Harry, just because Trelawney was a fraud doesn't mean I've gone off believing the entire subject."

Harry shrugged, pulling his bag up from where it was slipping off hid shoulder. "If you say so," he conceded, before the bell rang and there was a rush to the next lesson.

The stairs opened the same way they always had, though this time no cloud of incense smog drifted down. Amazed that Hermione might actually be right about the having a _good_ teacher, Harry sped up the steps before the rest of the class, and stopped in amazement as he saw the teacher.

Professor Carnaena looked at Harry disapprovingly. "When you want to close your mouth Potter, take a seat," she said, finishing marking someone's work.

Harry snapped his jaw back up and slunk over to his table, as the rest of the class came in, stopping their chatter as soon as they saw the teacher's annoyed look. '_It's one thing to have her teaching me at night_,' Harry groaned in his head, '_but does Levina really have to set me Divination homework as well_?'

Harry had to admit though, that Levina - or Professor Carnaena - _was _a good teacher. She started off with the theory of prophecies, moving onto examples of a few of the more famous ones, and then finishing the lesson up by setting homework, which was to write an essay on some of the famous eighteenth century Seers' prophecies.

Swearing to get a reason for her becoming a teacher when he next saw her, Harry moved on to Potions, which was almost unbearable. Snape was obviously still angry Harry's sudden jumping back to life and rushing past him without a word of thanks, which he proved by taking twenty points from him, even though his potion was perfect.

---

After lessons had ended, the trio settled down in the library to do their homework, Harry and Ron scouring the books for information; Ron for his History, and Harry for Divination.

Eventually, Hermione could take no more of their moaning, and snapped out the titles of some useful books. Thanking her, the pair found a few volumes on their respective subjects, and started reading.

While Ron painstakingly copied out several paragraphs about Grindelwald, Harry found that quite frankly, all these Seers' prophecies were basically the same - vague, unclear, and with several possible meanings. Turning to the index of '_The Inner Eye's Words_', he closed his eyes and stuck his finger on a random name (Elspeth Glades) and began to research her. Hermione, looking over at his work, became interested.

"There's a book all about her and her prophecies." she said informatively. "It's over in the corner, written by Cursickle Dudgit." Wondering once again about Hermione's amazing ability to remember half the entire library, Harry quickly found it. It was unimaginatively titled '_Elspeth Glades_', and was divided into two parts.

The first comprised her life, and the second, much larger section contained all her prophecies, as well as notes on those that had already come to pass. By the looks of how many there were, she had been an excellent Seer.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to get through the entire book that day, Harry had it stamped out by Madam Pince - but as he turned to go back to the others, there was someone standing in his way. As Harry saw who it was, his heart leaped up into his throat, and his mouth instantly dried out. Eloquently, he said; "Er - uh - hi - eh - Cho."

It was hardly the best conversation starter, but the sixth year Ravenclaw didn't seem to notice his growing red flush, or his stuttering. "Hi, Harry," she said, sounding shy and endearing. Over at the table, Ron thought '_Yuk_' and Hermione managed to stifle a '_Good grief_' as they pretended not to watch.

When Harry realised there had been a silence for nearly a quarter of a minute, he rushed to break it. "So, what are you doing here?" he asked quickly, not stopping to think what a ridiculous question that was.

Cho obviously didn't think so, though. "Actually, I came here to find you. Dean said you might be in here."

"Ah, yes... Dean." Harry laughed nervously. "Right, yeah. I know him. And... I'm here. Like he said. Dean." (Hermione gave up all pretence of not watching, and started to bash her head against the table in despair at this example of Harry's talent and proficiency in dealing with girls.)

"Well, the thing is that I really wanted to find you so that I could ask you..." the girl trailed off in a way that if deliberate, would have been extremely bad acting.

"Um... yeah?" Harry prompted brilliantly.

"Well," she repeated. "There's the Halloween Party, and the Holiday Ball coming up, and I was wondering if I could go with you." Cho asked slowly, while Ron pretended to be sick.

Harry, sure that his face must now look like some kind of panicked, overgrown tomato, felt his heart beat madly. "Yeah, that would be great, okay," he babbled mindlessly, "I'd love to. If you want to - you know, if you haven't changed your mind -" ('Which is looking all the more likely by the second,' Hermione sighed to Ron) " - then I'd really like that."

Cho looked delighted. "Thanks, Harry!" she said, before giving him a dazzling smile and leaving.

Harry drifted back over to the table, still unsure what had happened to him, and Ron shook his head in disgust. "Bloody Hell, mate. One of the best-looking girls in the school just asked you out, and you looked as if you were having a heart attack."

Harry glared at him. "I wasn't _that_ red." he challenged, slumping down, annoyed. He cheered up as soon as he realised that his crush had asked him out, though, which only took a couple of seconds.

Hermione, however, didn't seem as impressed. "Hm," she said doubtfully. "The question is, why _did_ she ask Harry out? I mean, she shows no sign of wanting to date Harry, then suddenly the Minister announces that Harry _isn't_ a lying nutcase, and everyone knows that he was involved with defeating a daemon, and she's all over him."

Ron snorted. "What, you think she's a Death Eater or something?"

"Of course not!" Hermione snapped angrily. "I just think she wants to be known as the girlfriend of the Boy-Who-Lived! I don't believe she cares about _Harry_ at all."

"Hello, I'm right here, you know?" Harry said as he waved a hand in the air. "Still in the room while you insult my new girlfriend."

"Well, you haven't been on a date yet," Ron said reasonably. "But Hermione might have a point. I mean," he said, turning back to her, "you're usually right, so maybe we should just consider that Cho's after Harry -"

"Will you _please_ stop talking about as though I'm not here? And anyway, have you thought that maybe she just likes me?"

"Well, she never asked you out before," Hermione mused. "I'm not saying that you've got no good points apart from the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' thing - we know enough about you to know _that_... and it's possible she fancies you now that you've got rid of your glasses, and your hair's calmed down a bit..." she drifted off.

"And her boyfriend's dead, so now she's single," Ron muttered, and Harry pretended not to hear him.

"Let's just move on," Harry said abruptly, signalling the end of the topic, and the three continued their work.

---

Friday was a lot better than the day before, excluding when Cho had asked Harry out, which still gave him a rush of elation. Transfiguration continued the theories of the Animagus transformation, and several ways that it could be achieved. After the lesson had finished, the professor gave a piece of enticing news to the class.

"Due to the Ministry finally admitting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return, the Ministry are planning to reinstate the allowances from the years when he was first attempting to rise to power." she announced, and the Wizarding-borns (who obviously knew what this meant much more than Harry) started whispering excitedly amongst themselves. McGonagall rapped her desk sharply, silencing them.

"For those who don't know, several laws were relaxed in the years when You-Know-Who first came. Several age limits were lowered, Auror training was shortened in order that more Aurors could be sent out faster, and so on." She paused for a moment, before continuing. "We have had a list of the new laws coming into effect this morning - these changes will be implemented by late this month, due to their emergency nature.

"Hogwarts has decided to restore several of the old classes, to help with your defence skills; and of course, it will passing OWLs and NEWTS much easier. Lists of the changed laws and new classes will be handed round at lunch today; you can sign up for all or none of them, but I strongly suggest joining at least two. That is all."

With that, she swept up the folder and left the students, most likely heading for the staff-room.

For the rest of the break-time before History of Magic, Harry had planned to complete his Divination. Instead, he found himself eagerly discussing the latest news with Ron and Hermione, up in the Common Room.

"When the classes were around, last time," Ron told Harry hungrily, "they had about three new classes - There was a Basic Auror Training one for the seventh years, so people who'd done that could skip some of the book-learning of the Aurors - you know, if they joined, then they'd practically go straight on to practical fighting and stuff. The second was Apparition lessons - usually it's only legal at seventeen, but they brought it down to sixteen."

"I'm sure I read something about a test to get into the new classes," Hermione worried, and Ron's face fell a little. "Yeah, there is _that_," he admitted. "For the Apparition class, you only had to fill out a form, and then if you completed the course, you'd get your license. But with the Auror one, you had to submit an application _and_ do an exam - you know, to see if you're smart enough, willing to stick at it, that sort of thing."

"Well, there's really no point in us getting excited about it anyway," Harry pointed out as he remembered what Ron said about the classes. "They were for sixth and seventh years, not fifth years. We couldn't join any."

Hermione looked triumphant. "Maybe then, but this is _now_. You-Know-Who's more powerful, so we need to be better prepared. Why would she have told _us_ about the new classes if some weren't going to be available to us?"

"Are you going to take any?" Ron asked, but Harry shrugged.

"I won't make up my mind before I see the list," he replied. "I don't want to get worked up over joining something, then find out it's been cancelled, or it's only for the seventh years."

---

At lunch, though, the list was passed around the third years and upwards, causing much excitement from them (and a lot of whines from the second years and below). Harry scanned his list, thrilled to see that they had obviously decided to bring in a lot more classes this time around.

_**Non-Compulsory Classes**,_ the stiff parchment read in bold, black ink.  
_**Amulet Making** - taught by Prof. Carnaena: 3rd years and above only. Monday, 5-6pm. This will cover how to make protective and offensive amulets with herbs, engravings, runes, and so on. When completed, applicants can pass an exam to gain an E-Level in Amulet Making, Grade 3.**  
**__**Animagus Lessons** - taught by Prof. McGonagall: 5th years and above only. Tuesday, 5-6pm. This will teach the ability to transform into an animal and back at will (note that it is only possible to change into one animal, not multiple). When completed, all successful applicants must obtain an Animagus License from the Ministry.**  
**__**Apparition Lessons** - taught by Prof. Flitwick: 6th years and above only. Wednesday, 5-6pm. Teaches the ability to transport oneself from one place to another instantaneously. When completed, all successful applicants must obtain an Apparition License from the Ministry.**  
**__**Magical Healing** - taught by Madam Pomfrey and Healer Moran: 4th years and above only. Thursday, 5-6pm. Covers Magical and Muggle first aid, as well as basic biology, and recognising symptoms of common illnesses. Provides the basis for Magical Healing E-Levels, though more studying is needed to gain a grade.**  
**__**Basic Auror Training** - taught by Captains O'Keifer and Marcella: 5th years and above only. Friday, 5-7pm. Teaches basic defence, Auror methods and tactics, what to do in emergency situations, and also some basic tests such as mental and magical aptitude. Will require application and approval from Captain O'Keifer.**  
**__**Spell Creation** - taught by Prof. McGonagall: 4th years and above only. Saturday, 5-6pm. Covers spell creation theory and creation of basic spells. When completed, applicants can pass an exam to gain an E-Level in Spell Creation, Grade 3.**  
Ward Creation** - taught by Prof. Carnaena: 5th years and above only. Sunday, 5-6pm. This teaches the construction of basic wards, shields and defensive magic. When completed, applicants can pass an exam to gain an E-Level in Protective Magic, Grades 2 or 3.  
__Please write your selection, name, year and house on the form below, and return to your head of house._

Harry filled out his personal details, before deciding which subjects he would choose. Unsure of what to pick, he turned to his friends. "What do you think you're going to do?"

Hermione tapped her spare quill against the parchment thoughtfully. "Well, I don't believe in all that herb rubbish, so I'm not doing Amulets... I'm definitely doing Animagus... we're not allowed to try Apparition until sixth year - and I'm not fond of the idea of Magical Healing or Auror Training. I don't want to be an Auror or a Healer, so I won't bother with them, anyway."

"But won't it be a 'valuable learning experience'?" mimicked Ron in a high-pitched voice, and yelped as she trod on his foot. "Thanks, 'Mione." he muttered, before reading his own list. "I think I'm going to try the Animagus class, Ward Creation and Auror training. I probably won't get into Auror training, but it's worth a try. You?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know. I mean, if I'm going to have to face Voldemort and all, I want to be prepared. The Animagus one is a definite, but I think I want to do the Amulet Making as well. I mean, if it _is_ just a load of rubbish, I can drop out." '_But since Levina's teaching it, it's unlikely she's waste her time with something that doesn't work_,' he thought, but knew better than to say it aloud. "Basic Auror Training - I might as well send in an Application, see if I can get into it; the Wards Creation sound pretty useful, and the Spell making looks interesting."

Ron looked at him mournfully. "It's too late to save you. You've turned into Hermione." He was rewarded with another stamp on the foot, so he shut up quickly.

Trying not to laugh, Harry scribbled down 'Amulet Making, Animagus, Basic Auror Training, Spell Creation, Ward Creation' on his form, signed and folded it, and passed it down the table to where the finished lot of forms were being collected. "By the way; what's an E-Level?"

Hermione answered this for him. "They're Extra-Levels; like OWLs or NEWTs, except you don't have to do them at a set age - you can do them before, during or after school, or not at all. Instead of a normal grade, you either pass or fail. Once you've completed the lower stage - grade 3 - you can decided whether you want to go up to grade 2, and you continue up to grade nought, which is when you become a Master in your subject."

Harry's curiosity was piqued. "Where do you do them?"

"Well, you can write to the Ministry, or you wait until Careers day, which is when all the different employers all come to talk about different jobs. There'll be some higher-education people there, so you could speak to them, or just go down the job agency," Ron explained. "Mostly, you just do OWLs and NEWTs - you only do E-Levels if you want to go into a really professional job, like Healing, teaching, or becoming an Auror - but they look really impressive on your CV because they're so hard to get."

"They take about a year to complete each grade," Hermione added. "So most people just get up to grade 2 and leave it at that. I think Snape's a Potions Master, and the rest of the teachers are at least grade 2 in their own subjects, and grade 2 in Teaching."

"Dad had to get a grade 3 in Public Services - he used to be in Magical Law Enforcement." Ron smirked. "So far, we've managed to keep him from starting any E-Levels in Muggle Studies, but it's been hard work."

Harry imagined Ron being awarded an E-Level grade 0 in 'Keeping Dads Away From Education' and couldn't help but snigger. "So you could do it at any age?" he repeated, mulling over whether he might try one after Hogwarts. After all, it wasn't as though he'd need a job straight away, with the amount of money he had.

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I think there was some real genius about twenty years ago - IQ of over three-hundred, photographic memory, front-page news - got his OWLs while he was practically in nappies and all; he did a couple of E-Levels, and he didn't have any trouble applying for them, even though he was only nine when he wrote in."

"I'll have to see what ones they have," Harry decided, before they grabbed their bags from under the table and left for the next lessons; Herbology for Ron, and Magical Languages for Harry and Hermione.

---

It was after lessons had ended, however, that the real shock of the day came after the trio made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry returned to the dormitory to Chat with Rhiannon and Sleepless. When first Sleepless, then Rhiannon had to leave, Harry turned to his homework to keep him occupied.

As he read through his book about Elspeth Glades, the Seer from several centuries ago, he read one prophecy in particular that stood out. As soon as Harry saw it, he knew that this was the one that Levina had told him about - the one mentioning the Eclipse of Remembrance.  
_  
__When the mouth of darkness conquers the Sun  
__And eliminates the light;  
The emerald-eyed Phoenix is the one  
Who must then take flight.  
With the memory of his ancestors  
__Contained proudly within his heart,  
__He must seek out one of his greatest enemies,  
__The Snake that tears the realm apart.  
__A brutal battle there shall be,  
__Friends shall perish, new ones gained;  
__And whichever army wins,  
__The world shall never be the same.  
__On the longest day's night  
__When patience wears thin,  
__The armies are ready,  
__And the fight shall begin -  
__The Magpie signals the end of the peace,  
__The Phoenix himself spreads wings  
__And afterwards the dead shall slumber,  
__Having fought for the child of ancient kings.  
__The Eclipse of Remembrance  
__Has now come and been;  
__Whether dead or alive the Phoenix is,  
The pride of the lost king and queen._

Grabbing a quill and parchment, Harry copied down every word. Obviously the Resistance weren't as good as keeping the cat in the bag as they thought, if this rather obvious prophecy slipped through their net. On the other hand, they already had their prophecy - why would they expect another one to appear?

This, however, wasn't the shock. This was simply the reason that Harry drifted over to the window to mull over what he'd just read, and saw a whopping great dragon fly past the school, before it circled around and headed straight for Gryffindor tower, it's reflective scales catching the Sun, and midnight eyes fixed on the window Harry was at with a malicious, piercing stare. Harry though, was more concerned about the rather large teeth.

"Bugger," he said. "Why does this sort of stuff always happen to me?"

"How should I know?" Ajax croaked lazily.


	11. Chapter 11: Celestial

Chapter 11: Celestial

"The strangest part of the story was yet to come." - Chasing The Dragon

~ ~ ~

Caught between two of the most bizarre things that year (and that was saying a lot), Harry could do nothing but stare at the magpie in wordless shock, and then out of the window in - well, more wordless shock.

Finally, the moment caught up to him, and as the dragon neared, Harry leapt back from the window and brought out his wand. The eyes were a dragons' weak spot, and at this distance, they'd be easy to hit. The creature outside though, had other plans. Slowing, it almost hovered, the tip of its snout just metres away from the Tower.

It turned its head slightly so that Harry was directly in front of its right eye, gave a snort that sent a plume of smoke spiralling out of its mouth, and then dipped sharply down and raced in the opposite direction, the wind still possible to be heard as it was beaten by the dragon's wings.

Harry's heart started up again. "Levina has a heck of a lot to explain!" he finally yelled, before turning and jabbing a finger at the bird. "And what the Hell is going on? 'Cause I'm damn sure you weren't talking _yesterday_!"

Ajax ruffled his feathers and fixed a beady eye on him. "You sound annoyed." he croaked indolently.

Harry wondered whether it really was possible to kill with a glance. "Annoyed? Of course I'm annoyed! Good God, I'm a bit more than just 'annoyed'! I thought you were a dumb animal, and now it turns out you're a reject from a Walt Disney cartoon!"

"And those are different?" Ajax muttered just loud enough for Harry to hear. "Look, you created me with Techno-Magic. Didn't you read the title of the section? It was called 'Creating AI Lifeforms', as in 'Artificial Intelligence'. I'm just as sentient as you, or Levina, or the bed."

"The bed?"

"Okay, maybe not." the bird corrected himself. "Look, just because I haven't talked a Human language before, doesn't mean I can't. I'm in the form of a bird, therefore I prefer to speak with a bird language, okay? It's only if I want to talk to you - which I really couldn't be bothered to do before - that I speak English."

Harry crossed his arms and glowered. "You _couldn't be bothered_? I created you, and you couldn't be _bothered_ to let me know what you can and can't do? I mean, you could at least have _acted_ intelligent."

"I was acting like a _bird_, okay. Just because the most common sentient race on the planet are Humans, doesn't mean that because I'm intelligent, I have to act like one." He pulled out a small feather and chucked it on the floor. "Anyway, I did save your life. Twice, actually."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Great, I'm arguing with a bird. Care to elaborate?"

"Number one, when you were hiding from the daemon in the Room of Requirement. If I hadn't sensed you were in danger, I wouldn't have gone after Levina, you'd have come out of the room too early, you'd have got eaten, yadda, yadda, yadda. Number two, when you possessed me. I mean, how would you have got away if I hadn't have been created?"

Harry didn't have an answer to that, so he just scowled. "Very fascinating, I'm sure. How did you know I was going to be in danger, anyway?"

"All AI systems - ones from Techno-Magic, anyway - can sense empathic signatures. Levina can, and so can I. Empathic signatures meant that _someone_ had used Forbidden Magic, which in turn meant the daemon summoning, which led on to the fact that when I sensed a Human's empathic signature, and it was wasn't coming from a Human, it was _obviously_ the daemon running around the corridors. I'm just too damn good, really."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right. Another thing I can figure out from that story is that you didn't bother to tell me that you could sense Leone's empathic signature - anyway, how did you know about how you were created and Forbidden magic? I don't remember mentioning them in front of you."

The bird started preening his wings. "Firstly, as your Familiar, I know everything you know. Secondly, there's a whole lot of basic information that was put into my brain when I was created. What did you think that spell was for? Just the body?" He lifted his head up again. "I know the different types of magic, I can sense empathic signatures, and I can even read your Aura. Plus, I can be understood by you."

Harry raised an eyebrow at this. "What do you mean?"

"Basically," Ajax sighed. "I can do my usual cawing, which is interpreted by _everyone_ as bird noises. Or, I can do my _different_ cawing, which everyone but _you_ translate as bird noises. You're not actually _hearing me talk - my normal noises are just sounding like a language you can understand, because I'm talking directly to you."_

"Thanks for the lecture, Professor," Harry muttered. "Now you've explained the mysteries of the Universe to me, I don't suppose you have any idea what a bloody dragon was doing outside the Tower?"

"As I said before; how should _I_ know? _That didn't come into the 'basic information' thing." Ajax said, idly._

Harry gave up. It looked like there was no choice but to go to Levina for the answer, and she was unlikely to tell him anything. "Fine," he yielded, and headed for the door. "I'll be back up later. I need to go and take my mind off things for a while." He opened the door, to find Seamus about to rush in.

"Harry!" he gasped, "Did you see the dragon? It's all anyone's talking about down in the Common Room!"

"Oh, go away." said Harry.

~ ~ ~

In the Library, Harry had the good luck to run across none other than Levina. She was sitting at one of the tables, marking what looked like one of the third-year's essays on water divining. Harry made his way over to her, staying out of the view of Colin Creevey, who was reading in one of the corners, and sat down next to her, grabbing a book off the nearest shelf and pretending to read it.

Levina didn't look up. "Is there something wrong?"

"Ooh, I dunno. Maybe the fact that you go on about how you want to remain inconspicuous, and then take on the job of a bloody _teacher_. Oh, and I found that other prophecy that you mentioned, by the way. And before I forget, a dragon just flew up to Gryffindor Tower. Care to explain?"

Levina looked amused. "How did you find it?"

Harry tapped the book he had pulled off the shelf. "My brilliant reading skills. I chose Elspeth Glades for my Divination homework, and I found the prophecy in there."

"Nice work," commented Levina, impressed, and Harry decided not to mention that he hadn't actually been looking for it. The woman ticked one of the paragraphs, still not looking up. "About the becoming a teacher thing; while I'm unknown, and likely to be thought of as a trespasser or enemy, it's better to remain unseen. However, when I heard they were going to be searching for a supply teacher, I made a few documents, a new name and life-story, and applied myself. Now I can wander around the entire school and talk to you in public, and no-one will think anything of it. That answer your questions?"

"All except the one about the dragon," Harry challenged, and Levina sighed.

"Please tell me we're not going to go into another one of those 'you lied to me!' things. All right, I admit I know about the dragon. I don't know why it came today, though. Okay?"

Harry gave her a pointed look, though her head was kept bowed over her work, so she didn't see. "Okay? You still haven't told me why the dragon's hanging around here! For all I know, it really _could_ be living in the Forest, like the Daily Prophet said, and it could be heading out every now and then to attempt to eat me!"

Levina clicked her fingers. "That reminds me - when you come for training tomorrow, bring the rod with you, so you can get another one. I'll also be taking the remaining blocks down from your power on Wednesday."

"What's that got to do with dragons?" Harry muttered rhetorically, but he was temporarily appeased by this good news. "By the way, do you have any rods on Mermish, Telepathy, or Phoex?"

"Cheating?"

"No I'm not," Harry defended himself, a bit insulted. "I mean, if that's cheating, then all the people with good memories should be disqualified, because they have an advantage. I mean, if I'm running about training, taking all those extra classes, _and_ worrying about people trying to kill me, I'm not going to have a very easy time trying to remember the best way to ask directions to a Merman, am I?"

"I'll get a couple more rods for you," Levina promised. "Just as long as you stop whining." She scribbled a note down on the parchment of another essay. "The unicorn's doing well, by the way. Its coat's starting to turn paler."

Harry perked up. "Is he okay without the rest of the herd?"

"She," Levina corrected. "And she seems fine. How's Ajax?"

"Talking." Harry scowled, at which Levina's mouth twitched. "Thanks for telling me he could."

"Oops," said Levina cheerfully, shrugging. "Never mind. By the way, do you have any clues as to where the Myrrh Cage could be hidden? I mean, the empathic signature would have faded by now, and for all we know, she could have destroyed it when she'd finished Summoning the daemon."

Wishing he hadn't destroyed the book that held the spell of Cantworth, Harry stopped to think, before shaking his head. "No idea _where_ it could be. I mean, all she said about it was that it was well-hidden, and wasn't in Hagrid's hut. That leaves the rest of the school grounds, Hogsmeade, anywhere that she could have sent it by owl - and of course, she could have destroyed it."

Levina sighed. "Well, looks like we'll just have to find her and get the information ourselves. Still, it's not as though I expected anything less. I just wish she'd left us some kind of a hint as to where it was."

Harry shrugged, and closed the book. "She may have been nuts, but she wasn't stupid."

"Unlike you."

"Yeah, unl - hey!"

"What?"

Harry glared, before checking his watch. "It's nearly nine o'clock. I'd better go." With that, he said good night, returned the book to the shelf, and returned to Gryffindor Tower. The rule sheet that had been handed out had been useful - number three-hundred and twelve of the school rules was that students had to be inside their House areas - such as Gryffindor Tower, or the Slytherin dungeons - by curfew, but there was no rule about having to go to bed.

Popping an Oxtamed pill into his mouth, Harry settled down, and before and after Astronomy, managed not only to complete '_The Cosmic Classic of One Thousand Invocations_', but also continue what Trelawney and Levina had started in '_Within the Mind, Beyond the Sight_'.

~ ~ ~

Saturday passed smoothly, as forms of personal details to apply for the extra classes were filled in, and Dumbledore announced the times for the tests to join the Basic Auror Training course, which would be the next day, and that the new classes would begin on Monday onwards.

The Healer from St. Mungoes, who was to be teaching the Healing lessons along with Madam Pomfrey, had already arrived, and the pair were now discussing the merits of Muggle surgery.

Ginny, Harry discovered, was taking Magical Healing and Spell Creation, and was planning to attempt the end of course exam, which would give her a Grade 3 Spell Creation E-Level if she passed. Magical Healing didn't have an exam at the end, as more would be needed to be learned before the Grade 3 for that was covered.

"Of course," Ron added, "barely anyone actually _passes_ their Grade 3 E-Levels if they do them here." When Hermione asked why, Ron explained further. "Firstly, though there's no age limit, it's usually adults, and only the really smart ones, who take E-Levels. Each grade takes a year to complete - our tests will come after about only half a year. We'll have other classes to deal with as well, so there's even less time for studying.

"Then there's the pass mark - you need eighty percent to gain a pass, and even if you're one mark below, you fail. When they last did these for students, when You-Know-Who was first in power, only three students passed at all, and they were all seventh and sixth years."

By the time he'd finished, Hermione was determined to gain at least two Grade 3s in Spell and Ward Creation, while Harry was just panicked.

When nine o'clock came around, Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and the training rod, and informed Ron and Hermione that he was going to training. They didn't know that this tutor was actually 'Professor Carnaena', and Harry was quite happy to keep it that way.

The Room of Requirement was exactly as Harry had left it. Levina had changed back from her black teachers' robes to her red robes and boots, and was now holding two of the rod carrying-cases, one in each hand, and was sorting through them. Harry held his own up to show he had it, before handing it over for her to slot back in.

"Here," Levina said, as she passed over one of the carrying cases. "There's ten rods in there; '_The Language of the Sea-People_', which is Mermish, '_Screams of the Surface_', which focuses on the Mermish screeches above-water, and '_Advanced Swordfighting'." She pointed to each one in turn as she spoke, though Harry had no idea how she told them apart without looking at the title._

"I've also put in '_Demonology and Daemon Summoning Volume One_', so you can do a bit of research, and '_The Tiger's Book of Transformation_'. With that, you just decide on what kind of transformation or transfiguration you need, and when you 'read' it, only the applicable parts will come to mind."

"Thanks!" Harry said appreciatively, impressed with the books. "What are the others?"

Levina set the other case down by the wall, and opened the cabinet to retrieve their swords. "The other five are blank; just scan them down the pages of whatever book you want, as well as the cover, and once you've read them, return them to me - I'll engrave the title and author into them for you."

Harry thanked her again, and put the case down by the door with the Cloak; they would make studying a lot easier. The rest of the lesson was spent in sword-fighting, and this time Harry managed to remain unbeaten for twenty-eight minutes, rather than the eleven and a half of last time. He also managed to hit Levina much more often, and he knew that the '_Basic Swordfighting_' rod had done its job in teaching him - now all he had to do was work on his reflexes, speed, and strength.

They had a break of ten minutes afterwards, so that Harry could regain his breath, and Levina made a few suggestions about changes to Harry's diet. He was mildly horrified to think about cutting down on chocolate and the fatty foods at the table - especially because he was still pretty skinny - but he finally relented, promising to go into the kitchens and ask Dobby if he could manage to make healthy dinners for Harry, separate to the rest of the food.

He returned to the dormitory at almost midnight, where he hid the case under the bed, and collapsed into a welcome sleep for the rest of the night.

~ ~ ~

When Harry woke up, the others had already gone down to breakfast. A note left on his bedside table from Ron told Harry that they had tried waking him, but he had refused to stop sleeping. Cursing as his stomach growled, Harry hurriedly showered and dressed, and made his way through the school corridors, until he reached a large painting of a bowl of fruit. Tickling the pear made the door visible, and Harry quickly made his way downstairs.

The house-elves weren't doing much; the had finished making breakfast, and it was too early to begin lunch or cleaning, so most of them weren't there - Harry guessed they were off sleeping or having their own breakfast.

Dobby and Winky, the two house-elves that Harry knew by name, weren't there either, and Harry was forced to make do with asking a different one to get him something healthy; on such short notice, he ended up with a ham roll, an apple, a banana, and some kind of Wizarding kiwi-juice, which turned out to taste quite nice.

Harry requested that small, healthy meals could be made for him each day, which the house-elves were only too delighted to agree to - making practically the same food every day must get a little boring, Harry decided - and left a message for Dobby and Winky, just to say hi.

When he returned to the dormitory to grab his stuff, Ron was already up there, reading a book about the Chudley Cannons. They had a brief conversation about why Harry hadn't been down to breakfast (Ron was highly sympathetic about the healthy eating, although he couldn't quite hide his glee when Harry added that Ron would have to eat all his share of the box of Chocolate Frogs), and then Harry withdrew the rods from beneath his bed.

"These are the rods you heard Levina talking about when you followed me," Harry explained, as he grabbed some of the books from his trunk. "I'm just going to be reading - don't let anyone disturb me, 'cause I don't want to have to explain what they are." Rod nodded, and returned to his book, while Harry pulled the curtains of the bed around him and pulled out a few of the blank rods, which were transparent.

"Right," he muttered, and selected a book. "'_The Cosmic Classic of One Thousand Invocations_' - perfect," he whispered, and began the arduous task of scanning the rod down each and every one of the five-hundred and seven pages. It took a full twenty-five minutes to complete, and the black mist filled the rod as he continued.

When that was finished, Harry moved onto the next one; '_Advanced History of the Magical World_'. He continued to fill the remaining three with '_Apprentice Masters' Potions,_' Ron's '_Auror Testing and Training_', and '_Phoenix Communication; The Purest of them All_'.

By eleven o'clock, Harry was finished - and now only had to read them. He sped through '_The Cosmic Classic of One Thousand Invocations' again - this time, he remembered far more of it, and it gave him a far smaller headache than his previous use of a rod did. '_The Language of the Sea-People_' was next, and then '_Advanced History of the Magical World_'; after that, his headache grew too large, and Harry was forced to stop._

Lunch was brought up by one of the house-elves; a large glass of milk, pasta, a small salad, and (much to Harry's disgust) rice pudding for dessert. Harry made the most of it, though he found the pasta extremely good anyway, and afterwards his headache had cleared enough for him to complete his reading of '_Apprentice Masters' Potions_', '_Auror Testing and Training_', and '_Screams of the Surface_'.

His headache was back again now though not quite as bad as before, so Harry gave it a rest for a few hours as he completed some homework, and then went through the books in his mind. When the ache had been gone for twenty more minutes, he finished '_Advanced Swordfighting_' and '_Phoenix Communication; The Purest of them All_'.

Harry grinned as he fed the rods back into the case, and locked it in his trunk. There was no chance of him failing Magical Languages, that was certain; and he would get an even better score on Potions and Charms.

~ ~ ~

At eight o'clock, an hour after supper, all those who wanted to take the Basic Auror Training exam made sure their wands were working properly, took a deep breath, and made their way to the Great Hall, where tables had been set out ready for them. Before they could sit down, however, they had to gain Captain O'Keifer's approval.

While Captain Marcella (a shorter-than-average woman, with a cheerful face and tied-back brown hair) put a test on each desk, along with a quill that wouldn't work if the applicant cheated or turned their paper over early, O'Keifer (a burly, strict-looking man in his late forties, with more than a few grey hairs and one of his fingers missing) made the students line up against the wall, while he marched up and down like he was on parade, inspecting them. There were over fifty students applying, and in the end, only thirty-seven made were allowed to take the test. The others, if they had got through, wouldn't have managed to complete the class.

The exam was a thick booklet, with a maximum of a hundred and fifty marks; they would have an hour to complete it, and the top ten passes would be allowed into the Training.

The exam started at ten minutes past eight - Harry had taken an Oxtamed just before they had entered the Hall and felt alert, as did Ron, whom Harry had given one of the pills to as well. This would give them a slight edge over the others, though it wasn't cheating, as they would be less likely to panic and make stupid mistakes.

Silence didn't reign for the next hour; the air was filled with the scratching of quills, muffled 'oh no!'s, chairs scraping, sighs, and tapping of nibs against desks as people tried to remember the answer. Three of the students gave up, finding the questions too hard, and handed in their papers before leaving.

Harry, though, was finding it startlingly easy. With the help of '_Auror Testing and Training_', he was racing through the strategies that should be used against Dark Wizards; recalling '_Apprentice Masters' Potions_', it was easy enough to explain the uses of rhodonite; he mentally flicked through the pages of '_The Cosmic Classic of One Thousand Invocations_' to find the spell that would be best to start a fire.

By eight forty-five, Harry was already finished, and only three short questions had managed to elude him. He had a stab at answering when the Aurors were first established, and was pretty sure he'd got the _why_ right, but he didn't have a clue about the founder, so he left that blank.

Looking around, he saw that everyone else was still busy scribbling, so he re-read his answers, and expanded on a few answers, before the time was finally up and Captain Marcella came around to collect the papers.

Harry waited for Ron outside the classroom, and followed the rest of the Gryffindors who had take the exam back up to the Tower. "I found that really easy, did you?"

Ron groaned. "Easy? Are you kidding me? I don't think I did _too_ badly, but it was a real strain. Did you get question six? You know, about how to create an emergency Portkey?"

"Yeah, that was in your Auror Training book. The word's '_Portus_', and it's best to use something natural like a stone, because it's easier than a man-made object."

Ron sighed. "Well, I got _that_ right. I was worried it was '_Porto_' instead. Tell you something, those pills are great. I'm not even tired right now, and I took it over an hour ago. Does it last the whole night, or something?"

Harry nodded. "It does, actually. Sorry, I completely forgot."

Ron shrugged as they entered the Common Room. "No problem. Hey, can I try one of those rod things?"

"If you want," Harry said. The rest of the students were heading for their dormitories, still talking about the exam. Harry and Ron went to their own dormitory, where Dean, Seamus and Neville were getting changed for bed. The pair ducked down by Harry's trunk, and Harry opened it and began looking through the rods. "Okay, that's swordfighting, you won't want that - that's Mermish, you don't do Magical Languages... hold on... how about '_Apprentice Masters' Potions_' and '_Advanced History of the Magical World_'?"

Ron was only too happy, so Harry gave a brief explanation of what to do and passed them over, warning that he might get a headache, but it was normal.

As Ron pulled the curtains around the bed, thanking him, and preparing to use the rods, Harry did the same with the rods he himself hadn't already 'read'; '_Demonology and Daemon Summoning Volume One_', and '_The Tiger's Book of Transformation_', of which rather than selecting a specific topic, Harry just went through the entire thing - and even at a hundred pages per second, it took almost four minutes to get through that one 'book'.

When that was over, Harry was again stuck for something to do. He put the rods that he and Ron had used back in the case, and locked his trunk closed - Ron thanked him lay awake, going through the information he had just taken in, slowly in his mind, and trying to get rid of the mild headache he had.

Trying not to disturb Ajax or the other students, Harry crept downstairs into the Common Room, closing the dormitory door behind him. He wasn't at all tired; he had been through all of his rods; he wasn't hungry; he didn't feel like exploring the school under his Cloak; he didn't know where Levina wa- of course!

Harry made a short trip back up to the dormitory to fetch his laptop, and then back downstairs into the Common Room, where he wouldn't be interrupted. He spent the rest of the night reading through Techno-Magic spells, where he managed to not only increase his training, but also find the spell of Cantworth.

~ ~ ~

On Monday morning, after Harry wolfed down his 'healthy breakfast', he headed down to the Great Hall to get the results of the exams. Finding a seat next to Hermione, who was in turn seated next to Ron, Harry chatted with them about the days lessons, before the results were passed around.

"Here's yours, mate," Ron said, as he gave Harry's to him. "Pass the rest down."

Harry did so, before turning to his own envelope. Crossing his fingers, he made to open it, but stopped when Ron gave a whoop of joy, though he was surrounded by groans of disappointment from other applicants. "Seventy-eight percent!" he cried gleefully, shoving the small piece of parchment over to where Hermione and Harry were sitting. "Third in the whole lot! I'm in the top ten!"

"Well done!" Harry congratulated him, and Hermione beamed. "I knew you could do it!"

From down the table, Harry noticed Angelina Johnson was being clapped on the back - she'd made it in, too. Taking a deep breath, Harry wondered why he was so afraid - after all, he'd found it easy. With this sense knocked into his head, Harry slit the envelope open, and read the parchment inside. "I don't believe it!" he crowed, a broad grin appearing on his face. "I came first!"

He let Ron grab the parchment, and read his score. "_Bloody hell_, Harry! How the heck did you get ninety-four percent?" At that, Hermione herself gave a yelp of amazement, and leaned over to check.

"Harry! You did it, you beat everyone! And ninety-four percent, that must be a record - how did you do it?"

"With a little help from some rods," Harry admitted honestly.

Hermione still smiled. "Well, all the same, it's still an amazing score. I mean, it doesn't really matter _how_ you learn it, as long as you do... oh, Harry, this is brilliant. I mean, if you do this well in your studies, you could get a scholarship to any university you like - you could do any job you wanted!"

Harry looked at her pointedly. "Hermione, you're the one that's going to be getting a ton of offers. Anyway, I'm not really sure I want to _go_ to university; actually, I'm not sure what I want to do at all."

Hermione waved that aside. "Well, that's what Career Day's for. And of course you'll have a career interview, anyway, so I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Why not be an Auror?" Ron suggested, but Harry shook his head.

"I don't know... I mean, it sounds good, but I've had my share of Dark wizards. Once Vol - fine, I'll say it this once, '_You-Know-Who_'s over and done with, I just want to do a nice, normal job. Not running around, hunting down the remaining Death Eaters and everything."

Ron brightened. "Hey, you could always try your hand as a Quidditch player! You could play for England."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry grinned. "That's a good idea, actually. I'll have to think about that."

"Or perhaps," said Hermione pointedly, "we could think about going to lessons?"

Realising most of the students had already left, Harry and Ron jumped to their feet and followed her out.

~ ~ ~

In Magical Languages, Harry stunned Professor Clayton with his sudden mastery of Mermish. "I was practising over the weekend," Harry shrugged when questioned, after he'd won twenty more points for Gryffindor, and come first in a mini-test. Hermione masked a smile - she'd worked out exactly how Harry had suddenly become so good - and Harry shot to the top of the class. The lessons after break, Defence Against the Dark Arts, found Professor Figg praising Ron and Harry; the teachers all knew who had made it into BAT (Basic Auror Training), and everyone was impressed with Harry's astounding score, which was fast becoming common knowledge in the school.

Although Hermione was still the best at Charms - the ones in the 'Cosmic Classic', Harry hadn't had a chance to show yet - Harry was feeling so high, that he managed to perfect a freezing charm on his first try without even realising it. After that they attempted warming charms, which Harry had quite a bit of experience at, gaining another ten points for Gryffindor house.

At five o'clock in the evening, Harry had left his friends to go to the Amulet Making lesson in the Charms classroom. This first lesson was mainly theory; Professor 'Carnaena' explained how jewellery, ornaments, talismans and clothing could be given magical properties; not by spells, but with herbs and spices or oils, or carvings, pieces of hair, and so on. She gave a demonstration of the creation of an amulet, by taking a thick, hollow, bangle of mahogany. "Mahogany is a rich wood, so I'll be making it attract money," she explained.

She took small sachets of buckeye and camomile, comfrey, ginger and heliotrope, explaining that herbs always worked best in groups of five, and that these were excellent for attracting money, before grinding and mixing them together, and pouring them inside the bangle.

She also carved the rune for Feoh, the sign for wealth, into the centre and sides of the bangle, and then rubbed rose otto oil over the entire bangle, plugging the open end of the wood with a sliver of mahogany, which had a miniature Feoh symbol in it.

"This," she said, holding the bangle up, "is one of the simplest possible. I only did this to show you the utter basics. However, in this class, you may make something like this to give yourself an idea how to do it, but otherwise you'll be making much harder ones." She glanced around at everyone, who looked worried.

"Not only will you need to memorise all the uses of different herbs, oils, spices, woods, metals, crystals, symbols, colours, numbers, cloth, and much more, but you'll also need to know basic runes, the star-signs, and you'll also need to know the current movement of the moon; if this was a proper bangle, not only would it have more money-attracting power put into it, but I'd have to make it at a proper time - under Scorpio, the time for finance, and when the moon is waxing, on a Tuesday."

Harry wasn't particularly anxious about all this - if he could find a book on amulet making, and Levina gave him any more blank rods, he would be able to gain an E-Level within a day of 'reading' it.

Levina handed out a list of herbs and their magical properties to each of the twenty-six students just before it became six o'clock, and the end of the lesson.

Most of the students were groaning about how difficult the lesson was, and two of them were seriously considering dropping out. Harry, though, had found it quite interesting, and knew that if he could get a rod on the subject, he would definitely be attempting to gain the end of course E-Level.

Harry returned to Gryffindor tower, where he set about borrowing Hermione's ancient runes book, and copying all the different runes and their meanings down onto parchment. To his utter amazement and horror, he found that the 'basic runes' which Levina had told them they would memorise, numbered four-hundred and eighteen.

Dutifully (though quite sure the world was ending), he began copying them down at a fast pace, managing to reach three-hundred and sixty-four before ten o'clock which was when his wrist was hurting far too much, and he was forced to go upstairs to bed, where he tossed and turned before finally falling asleep.

~ ~ ~

At breakfast, the news came on the wings of the owls, tucked in the pages of the Daily Prophets; Voldemort, now prepared for all-out war, had (probably provoked by the Minister finally admitting his existence) ended his sudden silence, and had tortured and flayed a family of Muggles before stringing their bodies up in Diagon Alley.

Harry, feeling quite sick, didn't read the entire article which boldly announced how they had been tortured and killed (he didn't _want_ to know the details, thank you very much), and instead chose to just feel sorry for the Muggles, two of which were under twelve years old, hate for Voldemort, and thankfulness for himself that he hadn't dreamed their murders the previous night (which would have _really_ ruined his sleep).

Harry had only just gone down to the breakfast table, having finished his own restricted diet in the dormitory, when the Daily Prophets arrived (as well as a small batch of fan-mail that he had been getting for the past few days, ever since he had been declared not only sane, but one of the people who - as the papers said - helped to fight a daemon off school grounds. He stuck these letters into his pocket to read later).

It was Herbology first, which Harry found quite boring; Neville was thrilled by the Raffiathistle vine, which had slick buds and tiny yellow spines spiralling up its length, and tried to snag people as they walked by.

At break, Harry sorted through his fan-mail, finally finding his latest Gringotts letter for the previous month.

_Money put into account (September): 0 _

_Money taken out (September): 40 Galleons _

_Amount in account (September): 5,909,200 G _

_Interest - 4% (September): 236,368 G _

_Total (September): 6,145,568 G _

This gave Harry a grand total of fifteen-million, three-hundred and sixty-three thousand, nine-hundred and twenty pounds. And of course, Harry remembered suddenly, there were all those houses, which were probably also highly expensive - and what about those keys? Which of the houses did they unlock?

He hadn't looked in that compartment of his multi-sectioned trunk in ages; not since he'd first opened it! Deciding it didn't really matter, Harry made his way to Potions, where he stunned Snape by not only gaining full marks on an ingredient quiz and getting the Alphic brew perfect, but also by managing to get the potion correct without even looking at the instructions on the board. '_Thank you, 'Apprentice Masters Potions',' Harry grinned as he stirred the watery substance. '_I couldn't have done it without you_.'_

He spent the lunch-time finishing copying down the runes, and also writing the stages of the moon, and different days. He grabbed a quick lunch - his stomach was now getting used to this 'healthy eating' stuff, and went to Divination early so that he could talk to Levina.

She wasn't marking - she was reading a book entitled '_Common Superstitions Regarding The Child-Rearing Habits of Unicorns_', which didn't look particularly like thrilling reading material to Harry.

When Harry entered, she looked puzzled. "Has my internal clock gone wrong?"

Harry grinned, and set his bag down under his desk. "No. I just came up early, to ask about the rods."

"Let me guess - you want more blank ones?" Levina asked, rolling her eyes in mock despair. "I knew you would. Look, have you got the other ones?"

Harry had; he passed the case over to Levina, who pushed them under the table, and brought out another case. "Right, then. This is carrying '_The Longsword: A Concise Examination of Variations_', '_Sendings and Dismissals', '_Basic Summoning_', '_The Book of Summons_' - look, I know you don't think you need all of them, but they're very useful - '_The Animal Gods' Prayers_'; that's magic using creatures, and '_Enchantments of Y'Laagrondd_'. That's mostly snake and dragon magic." She pointed to four transparent ones. "These are more blank ones. Try to make them last, will you? There's only a few thousand remaining in the stores, and at the rate you're going they'll be gone by Christmas."_

"Very amusing," Harry said, and thanked her as he pulled down the lid of the case, and fit it into his bag. "Are you still taking my blocks down tomorrow?"

Levina nodded, and returned to her book. "Unless something unexpected comes up. Don't forget to bring Ajax - and if you've finished with the rods, bring them back as well. I'll give you some more empty ones then."

Harry didn't want to risk starting to use one of the rods, and then someone walking in, so he finished reading '_Within the Mind, Beyond the Sight_', just before the rest of the class entered, and the lesson began.

~ ~ ~

"Professor Carnaena's much better than Trelawney," Hermione decided as they watched Fred and George booby-trap the floors against Slytherins. "I'm really glad I came back to Divination now."

Ron snorted. "I thought it was because you had to?"

Hermione looked annoyed. "Well, it is true that as I didn't _officially_ drop out, I was technically still going to class - which means still having to do my OWL; but I could just have gone to Professor McGonagall and asked her to take me out of Divination, like I did with Muggle Studies."

"Mm," agreed Harry, not really listening. The Careers Day had been announced as January the fifth, after the holidays, so he had decided to write to the Ministry of Magic's education department, and request information on subjects available for E-Level. Hermione had thought this a good idea, and done the same, and together the pair had bullied Ron into doing it with them.

Hermione volunteered to take the letters to the Owlery to be posted, so Harry and Ron returned to their room, from which Neville was just leaving. Opening his bag, Harry brought out the case of rods, and pulled out the blanks.

"Right - which books should I copy?" he asked Ron, pulling all his books out of the trunk as well. "I've only got a limited supply of these, so I want to make them useful."

Ron started sorting through the books. "Well - you said your Amulet Making class was pretty hard, so you should leave one for that -"

"I'm getting some more tomorrow night," Harry added, and Ron shrugged.

"Okay, never mind. So, you've got to choose four books, right? How about this one - and this - and you've _got_ to have the Astronomy textbook - and; no, never mind, how about this one?"

Harry looked them over. Ron had picked '_Animals, Beasts and Creatures; The ABC Guide_', '_Cursed: Werewolves, Vampires and other Once-Humans_', '_The Elegant Universe_', and '_Magical Art and Sculpture_'. "Good choice!" he commended, and passed over two of the rods. "Here - if you're going to use them as well, you can help me scan them in." He copied a few pages so that Ron could see how to do it, and whizzed through the books, now a master of the art of running tubes up and down writing.

Together they finished scanning the books within a few minutes, and began the even easier task of reading them. While Harry read the rods on longswords and basic Summoning, Ron used the rods on the COMC and DADA books. After that, Ron (still unused to the pounding headaches) took a long break, but as Harry's aches were getting smaller and less painful each time, he raced through the same rods Ron had been using, as well as the Astronomy book, Magical art, and '_The Animal Gods' Prayers' before having to rest._

He was still remembering far more of the information than he would have if he had read it in books - they really were the best way to study. With only a faint twinge in his head by five o'clock, Harry made his way to Animagus lessons in the Transfiguration classroom, along with Ron, Hermione, Parvati Patil, and Dean Thomas.

Professor McGonagall was teaching this; the fifth years and above, the only ones allowed to take the class, had already learned the theories and the basics of achieving the Animagus transformations in their lessons, so it was straight on to the harder stuff. "If there is any messing about," McGonagall announced, her hawk-like eyes watching every movement of the class, "you will be removed from this class. If your concentration wavers for just a second while you're in the middle of transforming yourself, you could find yourself with some pretty nasty problems."

She went on to detail one woman who burst out laughing while she was turning into a goose, and ended up in St Mungoes with a beak and feathered tail for the next two months, and a boy who tried to do the whole transformation on his first try instead of gradually working up to it, and was forced to live the rest of his life with hamster ears.

"Now, the first thing to do, is to find out what type of animal you're going to become," she explained. "Before you, you should see a small vial of pink liquid. Take the stopper out of the end - not yet, Mr Thomas, put it back on - after taking one of your hairs. Note that it must be a _living_ hair, not one that's come off onto your robes."

Harry pinched one of his black hairs off his head, and at the teacher's command, pulled the stopper out of the vial. It contained a rose-pink liquid, slightly watery, which smelt like salt. At another order, the class dropped their hairs into their respective vials, the liquid turning slightly paler as the hairs touched it.

After the stoppers were put back on, McGonagall collected the vials back up. "These will need a few days before the hair is fully absorbed and your form is revealed," she told them briskly, marking each vial with the students' names. "These will be returned to you this time next week."

After that, they continued the rest of the lesson with advanced tutorials in becoming an Animagus, which explained exactly how they were going to do it, and how much they could be expected to do by the holidays.

~ ~ ~

The next morning was History, which Harry (having memorised the entire textbook) spent reading '_The Dictionary of Magical Languages_', which was basically a list of extinct and continuing languages of Wizards and magical species, examples of phrases, where they were spoken, by what species, how long they would take to learn, where they could be learned, an estimated amount who spoke the language, how difficult they were and even more.

Transfiguration was after break, and after that (and lunch) was Care of Magical Creatures. This made Harry wish more than ever that Hagrid was back; the next time he'd see him would be December the sixth, at his wedding.

Harry finished the remaining rods before nine o'clock, and slipped on his Invisibility Cloak to go to the Room of Requirement. This time, there was a near miss, as Filch was limping up a nearby corridor, and Harry had to breathe in and stay perfectly still to let him pass by without noticing him. Thankfully, Mrs Norris was elsewhere, or else he'd have certainly been caught.

Levina gave him a rather smug greeting when he arrived, and Harry wondered what the matter was. "You," she answered when he voiced his thoughts. "You know I said I'd take your blocks down tonight? Well, yesterday evening, I went out to where Leone had you captured that night, and performed a few tests. You already broke the blocks down yourself, out of sheer desperation, when you cast that banishing spell."

Harry was half delighted by this news, which meant the wouldn't waste any training time and half annoyed, as it meant he'd had to sneak Ajax out of the dormitory for no reason whatsoever. The Familiar, however, didn't seem to mind; telling Harry he'd wait back in the dormitory, he reverted back to his usual croaks and then took flight out of the door. Harry wasn't sure whether he'd be pleased or horrified if Mrs Norris ate him.

Levina had not only engraved and bedecked with jewels the authors and titles of the books Harry had copied a while ago, but she had also retrieved ten more blank rods for Harry to use; she took back the ones Harry had finished with, and slotted these new ones into the old case.

In their fight this time, Harry lasted for over half an hour, and although he was defeated, he was rapidly catching up to Levina; his instincts to parry, lunge, slash, or dodge aside were getting much better, and his new diet was making a visible difference.

The Oxtamed he was taking meant he wouldn't get any sleep for the rest of the night, so Harry lit his wand with '_Lumos_', and copied down the books instead. He set aside two rods for any amulet books, and then sorted through his books for more to memorise. He finally settled on '_The Dictionary of Magical Languages', '__Rare Powers and Extinct Abilities', '__The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 5)', '__Pictures in the Mind', and '_A Guide to the Cabbalistic Hierarchy_'. He 'read' all of these, only gaining a faint throb in the back of his head, and realised that the next time he did this, he wouldn't feel bad at all. Deciding not to think about that for now, Harry worked out that even without two remaining for the amulet books, there were still three rods spare._

At this thought, another one struck Harry. To test this new theory of his, he pulled his laptop out of the trunk, and turned it on, before re-reading the introductory Notepad file again. To insert a disk or CD, all you would have to do would be to push it into the right-hand side; but would it also work with rods? After all, they stored information as well, didn't they?

Spells, Harry recalled Levina saying, had a bad effect on rods - but the laptop wasn't really a spell, was it? Determined that now was the time to find out, Harry took one of the blank rods and slid it into the right side of the laptop. The area around it rippled slightly, like water, allowing Harry to push it in until only half an inch remained outside. Well, it hadn't exploded yet - so far, so good.

Amazingly, it _did_ work. Harry managed to stifle a whoop of joy that would have woken the others as he opened the Explorer section, to find that 'R Drive' had now appeared. Deciding on the Technology section of Learnings to test it, Harry selected the (extremely large) Technology file, and dragged it over to 'R Drive'.

The rod seemed to take in information at the same rate as usual; though a few minutes later, a small message popped up on screen, telling him that the R Drive was full. Though the laptop had unlimited memory, the rod obviously didn't. Harry was a little disappointed by this, but pulled the rod out anyway.

The use of it was amazing. Whereas using one that contained a book brought up knowledge not only of the information contained within, but the quality of the paper it had been written on, the colour of the ink, and so on, and anything that had been scanned as well, this rod contained pure information.

It took just over six minutes to complete 'reading'; when Harry worked it out, the rod had managed to store about thirty-six-thousand, seven-hundred and twenty pages worth of information - and all of that was now in his head, giving him a splitting headache. Obviously, you couldn't go from 'several books, slight headache' to 'over thirty and a half thousand pages' without gaining mild agony along the way, as his brain worked overtime.

Wincing as he turned off the laptop and hid it with the rods back in his trunk, Harry slowly ran through the types of information in his mind. He'd got about a third of the Technology information onto the rod, and fortunately the final piece of information had been the end of that particular section, so it wasn't cut off half-way through.

He had managed to gain information, he found, on various computer languages and coding, as well as hacking, tracing, explanations on AI and how to make it, making himself untraceable, controlling electrical items through sheer will-power, programming and creating software, building hardware; even, he discovered, how to view things through satellites by opening a window up on the laptop, and then hacking the satellite - good grief!

A manic grin making its way onto his face, Harry whispered '_Nox_', and started making plans. The Dursleys wouldn't know what hit them.

~ ~ ~

On Thursday, Harry made another discovery about the connection between the rod and the laptop; by slotting a rod into the 'R Drive' as the laptop called it, he could not only gain information, but delete it. He made use of this by erasing the Technology part he already had, and refilling the rod up with the next section.

This carried the same amount of information as the previous time, and Harry made the mistake of 'reading' it just after lunch, which meant he went through History and Potions with a nasty pounding in his head.

The evening was much better; going out to Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione, Harry finally found '_Amulets for Beginners_', '_Amulets for Adepts_', '_Creating Talismans_', '_Spell Dates and Ingredients_', and '_The Properties of Gems and Jewels_'. He wasn't sure which one to buy, so he finally decided to allow himself a treat for his hard work in training (plus he'd be saving a lot of money in chocolates) and much to Hermione's happiness and Ron's amazement - bought the entire lot.

"Bloody Hell - you sure you've got enough?" Ron asked sarcastically, as Hermione placed a feather-weight charm on the bag, so that it wouldn't drag along the ground.

"No," said Harry, partly to annoy him. "I want to get some books for the Ward and Spell creation classes."

The other two admitted they wanted to research these as well, so they pooled money together (Harry insisting on donating the larger part) to purchase '_Defending Against Black Magics', '__Making Your Own Spells', and '_Shields, Wards and Other Protective Magic_', as well as '__Animagi: The MOM Authorised Guide'._

Back at Hogwarts, the trio talked about unimportant things while they scanned the books into the rods. Harry had now erased the rods of his own books so that they were blank once again, and within an hour, the nine books had been copied down, leaving just one blank (which Harry planned to copy the remaining text of the Technology section into), and ten minutes later, Hermione had finished 'reading' the defence, Animagi, spell creation and protective magic rods, as had Ron; Harry had not only finished these, but also the beginner and adept books for amulets, and the rod on dates and ingredients.

"Did you know," Ron said suddenly, as they rested to allow the information to sink in, and Hermione's headache to leave. "That Neville was number seven in the Auror exam?"

Neither of the other had known this, so they talked for a while longer before returning to bed, knowing they'd had one of the best days in a long time. Tired as they were, they didn't hear the scrape of claws outside the window, where a black, winged figure clung up against the wall, listening to the heartbeats of the people leaving the room.


	12. Chapter 12: Void

Chapter 12: Void

---

"... the shadow began to creep up the bed, and I felt it ... upon me." - Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them

---

On Friday morning, there was another double lesson of Transfiguration, followed by breaktime, during which Harry managed to finish using the rods containing the remaining information on talismans and gemstones, and also copy the leftover information in the Technology section into the spare rod.

History was next, and after that was lunch (Harry allowed himself a slab of chocolate for dessert, feeling a little guilty), and then Magical Languages. Harry was still top of the class in this, and was amused to think that he was almost perfectly fluent in Mermish and Phoex, as well as far more advanced than any of the others in Telepathy - which reminded him that he would have to try it out sometime soon.

The thing that Harry was _really_ looking forward to today though, was the first BAT class. At five o'clock, Harry and Ron said goodbye to Hermione and raced outside to the courtyard. When all the ten students were there, Captain Marcella flicked her wand in the air, making the scores from their tests appear in large gold writing, hovering several metres off the ground.

_1 Harry Potter: 91 _

_2 Seamus Finnigan: 80 _

_3 Ron Weasley: 78 _

_4 Cho Chang: 76 _

_5 Ernie Macmillan: 72 _

_6 Angelina Johnson: 72 _

_7 Neville Longbottom: 69 _

_8 Padma Patil: 68 _

_9 Justin Finch-Fletchley: 66 _

_10 Hannah Abbot: 62 _

"There's no Slytherins at all," Ron whispered, but Harry didn't find it very surprising. There had been few Slytherins attempting the exam in the first place, either because they'd rather be Death Eaters, or because they couldn't be bothered to attempt a class that wouldn't give them any qualifications, such as an E-Level.

In total, there were five Gryffindors - Harry was proud to see the top three were entirely his House - two Ravenclaws, and three Hufflepuffs.

"These are the scores of the exam you took," Captain O'Keifer announced, pointing at the gold writing with his own wand, before Marcella gave another flick, and it disappeared. "You lot are the top ten - and I'm quite amazed in the first place that all but two of you are fifth-years. Now, these are the rules. If you want to drop out, tell us, and you can do so. If you start provoking anyone, you'll get kicked out. If you don't help a team-mate, you'll get kicked out. If you disobey us, you get kicked out. Understand?"

A chorus of 'yes'es answered this.

"Good. Now, this class is for those of you who are planning a career as an Auror, and Unspeakable, or one of the higher-ranking Magical Law Enforcers. Or, it's just if you need to be able to defend yourself well." His eyes flicked to Harry here, before returning to the crowd of students. "You'll all be doing the same things, no matter of your age, gender or Magical power, so don't whine about anything being unfair, and we'll get along fine. For today, we'll be running a series of small tests to get an idea of how well you can do."

As the students started whispering to each other, Marcella passed him what appeared to be a long, grey wand, tapering off to a sharp point. "This," the man announced, causing instant silence to befall the students, "is a Magimeter. I'm going to ask each one of you to cast a spell using this instead of your wand. This forces you to use your most powerful magic, and instead of producing an effect such as light or knocking someone out, your top magical power will be shown. Understand?"

The class did, and Hannah Abbot was the first to test the wand; casting Lumos, '342' appeared out of her wand instead. Justin Finch-Fletchley followed, before Padma Patil; Neville, much to everyone's disbelief somehow managed to get six-hundred and thirty-four, an Enchanter; Angelina was proceeded by Ernie Macmillan, Cho Chang and then Ron were next, after whom were Seamus and then Harry, who was thrilled to find that his own unlocked power level was six-hundred and fifty-three.

After that was a small test that Harry had learned from the rod of '_Auror Testing and Training_'; A bead-sized sphere, similar to the Charmometer, was used to find whether anyone had special abilities. Harry's Past-Reading ability was revealed when the orb turned lavender - he acted surprised, a little disappointed that it was no longer a secret - and the reason for Neville's power was explained; he turned out to be a Creamagus; a not particularly nice ability to have, which meant that though extremely powerful when performing a spell created by themselves, casting any other spell would be weak, probably not working at all.

The rest of the time was actually surprisingly dull; Harry had already learned much of the material from the rods, though Ron and the others were obviously trying to cram all the information into their brains.

"I didn't know it was going to be so _hard_," Padma wailed as they left the lesson at seven o'clock.

Ron snorted. "What, you think they just employ anyone off the street?"

They had been informed that not only would they be learning offensive, defensive, and protective magic, they would also be training their bodies (for which Harry's personal training and new diet would be a big help).

Hermione was interested by what they had learned, but still didn't wish she had joined; "I'm far too busy as it is," she told them as she added another paragraph to her History essay, which was already half a roll of parchment over the required length.

---

On Saturday, the replies from the Ministry of Magic finally arrived. Each of the trio received a giant package, each carried in by a small troop of important-looking owls.

They opened them in the Common Room, while everyone else tried to look over their shoulders and see who'd sent them such huge bundles by post, which got quite annoying. "Look at all these!" Ron breathed, as he flicked through a 'booklet', which was more like a novel, entitled '_Higher Education: What To Do_?'.

Not only were there several booklets and leaflets on NEWTS, E-Levels, and GNVQs (like the Muggle ones, they stood for General National Vocational Qualifications), there were also prospectuses for several Wizarding universities - all abroad, the closest was Burgwatts in Wales - and leaflets on various careers and the qualifications needed. Harry managed to find the booklet on the possible E-Levels, and read down the list.

The usual Hogwarts subjects were there, along with Magical Culture, Law, Reporting, Cuisine, Archaeology, Music, Art, Focus Design, Focus Making, Fashion Design, Healing, Quidditch Refereeing, Architecture, Public Services and even more. Interestingly, though one of the E-Levels was Offensive Magic, there were two other E-Levels in Defensive and Protective Magic. Defensive, Harry read, included counter-curses, Patroni and such-like, while Protective covered shields and wards.

"Ooh, look at this!" Hermione said in awe, reading the prospectuses. "Galbrook has tonnes of lessons - they do OWLs, NEWTs, E-Levels and GNVQs - maybe I should go there after Hogwarts."

Ron found the same item in his own package. "Hermione," he said in disbelief, "Galbrook's in _America_. You seriously want to go all the way over there, just to pick up a couple more qualifications?"

"Really, Ron, it's not just that," snapped Hermione, annoyed. "Just look at the information! They've got nearly all passes for the last two decades, and very small classes, top-notch teachers; I think it was marked one of the top five schools in the West a few years ago, I'll have to check..."

Ron tapped one of the pages. "Yeah - and it's surrounded by a field of Chronomancy, so a year on the outside takes just over a week on the inside. Brilliant idea 'Mione; let your parents miss out on a whole year of your life."

Hermione quickly rechecked the writing, and even more quickly scrapped the idea. "I don't know how I could have missed that," she muttered in annoyance, before starting to read through the other prospectuses.

Harry was rapidly growing bored, so he bid farewell, and returned to the dormitory to pack away the information in his trunk, and bring out his laptop. "Now for some fun," he muttered, his mouth curving into a wicked grin. Tapping the keys rapidly, he opened up a command-screen on the computer, and using the new knowledge in his mind wrote a quick code to make himself untraceable and unnoticeable.

The laptop quickly complied, and Harry wished that every computer could be as advanced as this - it would mean Dudley would stop having screaming fits whenever he couldn't get online. The thought of Dudley made his grin even wider, as he thought of his revenge. Hacking into the intranet of Dudley's school, Smeltings, in a matter of seconds, Harry quickly argued with his conscience on whether this was a moral thing to do. The conscience lost.

Feeling as light as a feather, Harry gleefully deleted all Dudley's work, and also wrote some coding that meant when any of the teachers tried to log in themselves, they'd only find a message-box popping up, with the words '_Love from D. Dursley_' in it. Dudley would probably be expelled, but revenge, he discovered, really _was _sweet.

He briefly considered messing up Vernon Dursley's accounts for his company, and getting him arrested for tax evasion, but decided that was too evil. Instead, he found his uncle's credit card account numbers, and subscribed to as much junk mail and magazines as possible. "Merry early Christmas," he whispered, trying to hold his laughter in.

There wasn't much he could do against Petunia, who didn't use computers except for online shopping, so instead he traced Dudley's home e-mail, found the IP address, and found his way into Dudley's home computer, where he quickly blocked all the sites where he knew his aunt shopped - Argos, Tesco, Safeways, Iceland; and finally sat back, his job done well. At another thought, he returned to the Smeltings intranet, and rewrote the results page of their website so that it looked as though everyone had failed their GCSEs.

_Now_ he was done.

---

By the time his joy had worn off, after the first spell creation lesson (mainly theory - Harry wished the teachers would go straight on to the actual work, which would be a lot more interesting), he was feeling a little guilty about the entire 'ruin the Dursley family' thing. He finally told himself that all together, it was still far less than what they had put him through for the years of his life in their 'care', and besides - Dudley wouldn't have passed his GCSEs anyway, if he were to be quite honest. And anyway, Aunt Petunia really _should_ cut down on home shopping.

On that thought, he used the rod to finish 'reading' the Technology section (only ten-thousand, eight-hundred and four pages remained), and ate the lunch that the House Elf (whom he discovered was called Cobbit) brought up.

Ron returned later to announce his victory and new title as Gryffindor Chess Champion (the finals had kept being put off, for such reasons as 'murder', 'daemons on the loose' and 'Quidditch try-outs') and they talked for a while about the next step in his great battle - the Inter-House Chess Cup, which didn't actually exist (but somehow Ron was still hoping to win it), the state of professional Quidditch teams, and whether they should give McGonagall a heart attack by telling her they hoped to become Dark Lords at their Careers interviews.

At seven o'clock, Neville Longbottom stuck his head around the door, and looked at Harry. "Professor Clayton wants to see you, right now," he told him worriedly. "I don't know why."

Harry went pale. He should have been more subtly, more gradual, about his sudden excellence - did the teacher now think that he had cheated? Ron obviously had the same thoughts; he looked at Harry anxiously, but the scarred boys shrugged and put on a brave face. "It's probably nothing," he said, and thanked Neville, before leaving.

Professor Clayton was waiting for Harry in his room, along with a man that Harry had never met. "You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry asked nervously as he stepped into the room, and the professor smiled reassuringly.

"Yes, come in and take a seat. Harry, this is Mr Whaits - he's on the board of examiners, and he's quite interested in how much you know about languages."

'_Ohcrudohcrudohcrudohcrud_,' Harry thought, though his mouth said, "Pleased to meet you," and his hand reached out to shake Mr Whaits'. The man looked about fifty or sixty; quite weedy and tall, with reading spectacles and an immaculate set of black, professional-looking robes that Harry guessed was the equivalent of a suit.

"Pleased to meet you, too," the man said, looking at Harry interestedly. "Now, I've heard you've found a sudden proficiency in Mermish, mm?"

'_Ohcrudohcrudohcrudohcrud_,' "Yes, sir."

"Do you know any other languages?"

'_Ohcrudohcrudohcrudohcrud_,' "Yes, sir." '_Oh, why did I say that, crudohcrudohcrudohcrud_...'

Mr Whaits looked even more intrigued. "Oh? What else?"

Harry gave up and bit the bullet. "Phoex, and Telepathy, sir. When I bought the textbooks for the Magical Language class, I just couldn't put them down."

Neither of the men seemed to notice the sarcasm in his voice. "Excellent!" Mr Whaits cried in a pleased tone. "I don't suppose you could count to twenty in above-water Mermish, could you?"

Without having to think about it, Harry shifted his body into the correct position, took a breath, and let out a series of quiet screeches, which alternated slightly in pitch, volume and speed, which to the casual observer would look as though he had just gone mad. When he was finished, the examiner clapped, obviously impressed.

"Excellent! Absolutely excellent!" he repeated loudly, and Harry was forced to submit to a few more tests; first to give a brief introduction to his appearance and personality in underwater Mermish, then to give a short speech on his likes and dislikes in Phoex, and finally to describe the school using the mental images of Telepathy, which was a lot harder than it sounded.

As he ended, Mr Whaits was practically bobbing with excitement, while Professor Clayton had a huge grin plastered from ear to ear. "Excellent!" cried Mr Whaits for the fourth time, "My dear Mr Potter, I do believe you have a talent for languages!"

'_That, or a bunch of rods_,' thought Harry, wondering how he was to get out of this.

The examiner calmed down a little, and peered closely at him. "Mr Potter, it really is a waste of time continuing your lessons like this - if the rest of your vocabulary is like this, you've got even further than your excellent -" (_There's that words again_, thought Harry) "- professor can lead you!"

He adjusted his glasses, and beamed down at Harry. "How would you like to take your Languages OWL this week, instead of at the end of the year?"

Harry's jaw divorced his face and married the floor. "But - what about... coursework, and stuff?"

Mr Whaits waved that away impatiently. "Oh, it's not like Muggle subjects; the only coursework you do for OWLs are in Potions, and a few long-term tests in Care Of Magical Creatures and Herbology. Really, the only thing you need to do is take the exam, and if for some reason you don't do well, you can re-sit it at the normal time."

"Think about it, Harry," Professor Clayton encouraged, and Harry had to admit that it sounded like a good idea.

"When would I take the exam?" he asked slowly, wondering whether the rods had taught him quite enough

"Monday morning, in your Language lesson?" Whaits suggested, "It's a two hour exam, so you'd have to miss your break and next two lessons, I'm afraid - you can go in a separate room from the rest of the class, and I'll oversee you. What do you think?"

Harry's mind was made up. If he passed, that would be great - if he didn't (which was doubtful), he could continue the class, and re-sit the exam with everyone else. Plus, if he did pass, he'd have four more free periods a week to continue with homework, reading or training - that, and he might get an OWL before everyone else.

He glanced at Professor Clayton, who nodded. "Go for it. There's nothing to lose," the teacher said.

"I'll give it a shot, sir," Harry decided aloud, the excitement of the adults beginning to sink into him.

---

"Have you heard the news?" Harry asked Levina excitedly as he threw his Cloak down by the door. "I'm taking one of my OWLs early! Oh, and I found some really cool stuff about the rod, but that can wait."

Levina took the case of rods and frowned. "One of them's missing."

Harry glanced over them. He'd been in such a hurry that after deleting the remaining Technology section, he must have done something really stupid, and forgotten to take it out of the computer. "Oops - it must still be stuck in the laptop." he said apologetically, and Levina gave him a funny look.

"Stuck in the laptop?"

Harry's face lit up. "Yeah; that's what I wanted to tell you about the rods. You know how you can fit disks and CDs into the laptop - well, it's compatible with rods as well. You can put information in them from the computer, or erase the information already in it, so you can reuse rods over and over."

The woman looked impressed. "I didn't expect the _rods_ to work with it. Hm... maybe some of the Techno-Magic's starting to leak out into it, and it's gaining a life of its own. That would explain it."

Harry gave her a look of horror, but she laughed. "Just kidding. They're made to work with any kind of device designed for storing information; I can't believe I didn't work out that meant it could hold rods as well. Still, that's much better - I won't have to bring up any more blank rods for you to use. You can have that one, and just keep using it. And yes, I know about you taking one of your OWLs early; all the teachers were told. Well done."

"Yeah, but I memorised it all from the rods," Harry admitted guiltily, and Levina shrugged.

"So? That was what students in Atlantis did, and no-one told _them _off. Having an advantage over someone means you should _use_ it to do the best you can, not feel like you're cheating." She put the rods away, and took out the swords. "Now, I'm planning on adding a new section in the 'Learnings' menu - don't look surprised, I _can_ update it when I want - on physical training, like sword-fighting and so on. That should boost your training forwards, since you won't be restricted to just a couple of nights a week. I'll be putting in information from the Atlantean books, so it should probably be two or three weeks before it's complete. I'd recommend that you use the rod as much as you can on that section - perhaps learn some staff fighting, as well."

"I'll have to find the section on making swords, as well," Harry added. "Do you think I can pass my OWL?"

"I'm one-hundred percent certain." Levina said, taking her position, "I'd be surprised if you got anything less than an Outstanding - all you needed on Mermish was that one textbook, and you've read three; the Telepathy - well, once you can send one picture, you can send them all; and with Phoex, I'm sure you can glean some more information from the laptop. Did you know that if you pass, you'll be only the fourth person in the entire history of Hogwarts to get an OWL before the usual time for exams?"

"How special," Harry muttered, and quickly performed a disengage and lunge to start the fight.

---

Sunday was quite normal; explaining that he would be taking his OWL the next morning (which caused no end of awe among the listeners-in), Harry made his excuses of revising, and disappeared to the dormitory. There, he used the rod to copy some more information from the 'Language' section on Phoex, and after a moment of thought, also took some information about the basic and advanced runes, which he decided would be useful for amulets.

He was sure he'd heard something outside the window at one point, but when he looked, there was nothing there. Deciding it must have been a bird, Harry returned to his work, and later to Ward Creation with his friends.

On Monday, Harry felt queasy and nauseous. "It's just nerves," Hermione told him as they reached the Languages classroom. "Good luck!" she said optimistically, before having to enter the classroom with the others, while Harry started taking deep breaths to calm himself as he waited for Mr Whaits.

When the examiner arrived a minute later, and took Harry into a small room set aside, he explained the rules. "Right now," he announced, "the time is eight-fifty. There will be an hour and a half for you to complete the exam booklet in front of you, and half an hour for you to complete an aural exam, which is when I'll ask you questions, and you'll answer them in each of the three languages. If there's any time left over, you can go back to any answers you may have missed, or check your working on your paper. The exam will start at nine o'clock, and continue on to eleven o'clock; you have ten minutes to read through your books or notes."

Harry hadn't made any notes, and there was nothing else to read in his textbooks, so he looked out of the window instead (which probably didn't fill Whaits with confidence). The Whomping Willow could be seen from this angle, trying to hit a pair of rabbits who were far too fast for it, and a few dark grey clouds carrying the dreaded Winter rain drifted slowly over the grounds.

Finally, Mr Whaits alerted Harry that the time was now nine o'clock, so he quickly turned over the booklet and wrote his name, year, house and date of birth, before scanning through the questions. As he did so, his sick feeling disappeared - _these were easy_! There were one-hundred and forty-five marks, as well as an extra five for spelling, punctuation and grammar. Feeling a lot better than he had for the rest of the morning, Harry skimmed easily through Section A (Mermish, forty points), paused a bit at a question on how you would communicate a warning about slippery roads in Section B (Telepathy, forty points) and thanks to the extra research he had done yesterday, found section C (Phoex, forty points) a breeze. There were twenty-five points remaining, excluding those for how well he'd written, and these were in section D, which was Mermish above-water.

When he'd finished, Harry glanced at his watch. It was eleven minutes past ten; he had nineteen minutes remaining before the aural. Knowing he wouldn't be allowed to speak or take it early, Harry passed the time by checking through his answers and spelling, as well as expanding one of his answers about Mermish body language in the hopes of gaining some extra credit.

At ten thirty, Harry moved over to the examiner's desk, where he answered five questions in each language (and here he knew he'd picked up extra marks, as he also augmented his answers by answering in Mermish above-water as well as Phoex, Telepathy, and normal Mermish).

This took the entire thirty minutes, so there was no more time to go back to previous questions, or re-check his written work. With a congratulations and a 'well done', Harry left the room feeling quite confident. Levina was right - it _would _be a surprise if he came away with anything less than an Outstanding.

Although there was thirty minutes left of DADA to get to, Whaits had assured him it would be fine to take the lesson off. "After all," he had said, "you're probably very stressed from the exam. Take some time off, have some fun, hm?" Now Harry did as he said, deciding have his lunch early (thankfully the teachers were all in lessons, which meant no-one caught him sneaking down to the kitchens), where he was surprisingly glad to find Dobby.

They talked for a while - Dobby insisted on calling him Harry Potter, and was annoyingly awe-struck by the ridiculous rumours that had been going around the magical community of how Harry had fought off a daemon single-handed, saving the lives of everyone in the school - before Harry remembered what he'd come down for, and requested an early dinner, which Cobbit and Dobby were only too happy to make.

Winky was nowhere in sight; Dobby informed him a little sadly that she was still unhappy about being free, and was probably drunk in her quarters; and finally Harry said good-bye, going back to Gryffindor Tower, where he whiled away the time by researching weapon-making and - when he remembered Amulet Making was later - managed to find list on the 'Information' section on the magical properties of woods, metals, and other materials.

By lunch-time, the clouds had almost covered the sky, and it looked like there was a storm on the horizon (which was proved when Ajax returned from a flight complaining loudly about how Harry wouldn't even care if he had been missing for the rest of the day and got trapped in the storm).

"How did you do? Was it hard?" Hermione asked him as soon as she and Ron returned to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry allowed himself a wide smile. "I think I did pretty well. It _seemed_ easy, but that was probably only because I had the rods. I get the results on Friday." He did a mock-bow, and Ron grinned.

"Harry, you'd better not turn into another Hermione. Sometimes I get the feeling I'm the only sane one here."

Hermione snorted. "You? Sane? Now _there's_ two words that don't go together."

Rushing to stop the inevitable argument, Harry latched on to a subject. "Animagus lessons tomorrow - what do you think your form's going to be?" he interrupted, hoping this would distract them.

This was a subject that was interesting to all three. Hermione's eyes glazed over. "Oh, I hope I'm a bird - I'd love to fly properly, not on a broom, but just by myself. Some kind of hawk or kestrel, perhaps."

"I want to be something fast," Ron decided slowly, "I wouldn't _mind_ being a bird, but I can fly on my broom any time I want, especially now I'm reserve Keeper," he added with a proud expression. "What about you?"

Harry paused. He'd never actually _thought_ about what he wanted to be. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I'd be glad for anything, to be honest. A stag might be nice, like my dad was, but I don't really mind."

"It's a pity Malfoy's not doing the lessons," Ron mused. "We could see whether he really is a ferret."

---

Making amulets with the help of the rods was easy, Harry discovered. Thankfully, as Levina was the one teaching, she knew that Harry was far ahead of the basics she was teaching the others, and allowed him to start designing his own amulet as a practice, much to his classmates' grumbles while they tried to learn the basic runes.

Working directly onto parchment, Harry decided to make his amulet increase the wearer's powers of divination, and that it would be a necklace. Blue, which stimulated the psychic mind, and yellow for divination would be the main colours, he decided; the five herbs would be coltsfoot, five finger grass, camphor, acacia and angelica root, with essence of juniper berries used to buff the outside and enchanted to stay on rather than fade or evaporate.

Harry also chose citrine, a stone good for psychic awareness, which was yellow-coloured and so would also fit in with the necklace, as well as lapis lazuli which increased the psychic power and being blue would fit the colour scheme. Being together, they would also strengthen each other, making their effects more powerful.

This would be a simple amulet, not made on any particular day, as he would put enough power from herbs, stones and colour into it to make any more gleaned from creation during phases of the moon, or particular days, pointless. Harry chose the 'all-seeing-eye' as the main focus point of the necklace to symbolise the third-eye; sketching onto the parchment, he decided the eye would be four inches across and an inch-and-a-half high, hanging down from a gold chain that would be charmed to be alternating blue and yellow links.

The normally white part of the eye would a pale yellow, surrounded by studs of tiny lapis lazuli. The iris would be blue, with the pupil a small, round citrine inserted into the necklace. On the back of the eye, yellow silk would be stitched, with a small slit for him to insert the ground and mixed herbs, before it was completely sown. On the front, essence of juniper berries would be rubbed over and up the chain, and hanging down from the eye would be three threads; the two at the left and right sides of the eye would be yellow and would loop through two medium-sized lapis lazuli, while the blue thread dropping from the middle would hold a large citrine stone.

Harry was just deciding what type of wood or metal to make the base of the eye out of, when the lesson finally ended, and Harry was forced to pack away his design and leave with the rest of the class, most of whom were chatting excitedly about the Animagus class at five o'clock - even those who weren't going.

---

Apart from Snape making a few sneering comments about how he must think he was so special taking his OWL early, all the teachers seemed out to congratulate Harry. He couldn't see why - only the aural had been marked so far, and even those results hadn't been released, so as far as the teachers knew, he could have failed miserably.

They didn't see it that way though, so after lunch as Ron munched his way through a bag of Every Flavour Beans, and Hermione nibbled at a Pumpkin Pastry (there were still some chocolates left over from Harry's hospital stay, which Ron had refused to let to go to waste now that Harry had been sworn off such foods) Harry had to put up with Professor Sinistra and Binns coming over to commend him for excellent work.

"I mean, why did Professor Sinistra come?" Harry complained to the others. "I'm going to Astronomy tonight, so couldn't it wait until then? Honestly, I just don't understand teachers."

"They're probably all hoping that if you pass, you can use your free periods to start _their_ lessons," Ron suggested, but as Harry pointed out, he went to History and Astronomy anyway, as well as to Transfiguration, Charms, and all the other classes the teachers had come from to congratulate him.

Harry risked a glance over to check Levina wasn't watching, and then sneaked a bit of chocolate. He felt he deserved it for managing to not only take his OWL early, but also sitting here surrounded by cakes and desserts, watching his friends eat and not doing so himse - ooh, fudge cake... no, must resist... so warm, so tasty... fight it...

"Anyway," said Hermione, interrupting Harry's internal monologue just before he gave in and threw himself at the cake. Harry didn't know whether he wanted to kiss her or hit her. "We've got Divination in a few minutes, and you know how long it takes to get up there, so we'd best get a move on."

"Carnaena hasn't left yet," pleaded Ron, but Hermione was adamant that they'd just get there early, then.

"Yeah, and remember what happened last time we left lunch early to go to Divination," Ron muttered, but he admitted defeat, and followed Harry and Hermione up to the North Tower.

The two hours of Divination today covered tarot cards, which were apparently one of the most precise branches of Divination. Harry remembered what McGonagall had said about Divination being 'one of the most imprecise branches of magic', and wondered how it were possible to have a precise branch of an imprecise branch.

The Animagus lesson was the most eagerly awaited event of the week for those who had signed up, and for good reason, as when the students entered the classroom, craning over each others shoulders and peering through gaps in the crowd to see if their vials were set out, they were thrilled to see that they were.

Unfortunately, it was still simply a pinkish liquid, though the hairs had been absorbed. McGonagall rapped her desk to gain their attention, before setting a large bag down on the table and bringing large, gnarled pieces of woods out of it, that looked as though they'd been hacked off a tree.

"The final stage in discovering your form," she announced, "is this." With that, she opened the cupboard behind her, and with the use of a levitation charm, brought out an enormous, coal-black cauldron which contained what appeared to just be water. Settling the cauldron down in front of her desk, she performed another levitation charm to put the huge pieces of wood into the water. "When I call your name," she told them, "you will take your vial, come to the front of the class, and pour your potion into the cauldron. Your Animagus form will then appear."

Ignoring the mutters and whispers of excitement, the teacher brought out a roll of parchment, adjusted her spectacles, and read out, "Bones, Susan."

Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff in Harry's year, leapt to her feet and grabbed her vial from the desk. Standing besides the wood and water filled cauldron, she pulled the stopper out of the vial and poured the liquid into it. Immediately, even though there was only a small amount of the pink liquid, it coloured the entirety of the water a rose-pink, so it was impossible to see the wood below. It bubbled for a second, and the students leaned over their desks or stood up to get a closer look. Then, rising up through the water came a perfectly-carved wooden goose, as small as a miniature figurine, but flawless in detail.

Susan gasped; the students gave a cheer; McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it's only a bit of wood. Take it and go back to your seat." Normally this would have spoilt the moment, but everyone was too thrilled to care, and Susan returned to her desk holding the curiously dry goose and admiring it with her friends.

"Chang, Cho," was next, and Harry looked up startled. He hadn't realised that Cho was in here, but she obviously was - she poured her own potion into the water, which had faded back to transparency when the goose came out of it, and was rewarded with a wooden carving of a cat, which Harry recognised as a Siamese.

Colin Creevey was a squirrel, much to everyone's amusement, and then there were some people Harry didn't know before it went on to the 'G's. As soon as Hermione's name was called, she snatched her vial up and almost ran down the aisle to the cauldron in her eagerness to find out her form.

Her statuette was that of a swan, which was quite a surprise to the trio; Harry certainly would never have compared her personality to a swan, but he decided it just went to show that you never really knew what a person was like on the inside. There were various other people throughout, who Harry didn't know the names of, but he took notice of those people he knew. Angelina Johnson, who was also taking the class, became a thoroughbred mare, while Lee Jordan became an otter. Neville's figure was that of a rabbit with abnormally long ears.

As the letters moved on to 'P', Padma Patil found her form that of a butterfly, while her sister Parvati walked proudly back to her desk carrying a representation of a bottle-nosed dolphin, paused in mid-leap.

After Permit, Abby (a Slytherin sixth-year, whose form was a spotted hyaena), Harry's name was called, and he took his own vial up before making his way to the cauldron. He unstopped the potion, and tipped it into the water. Instead of turning the water pink, however, it changed to a strange, murky purple colour.

McGonagall immediately brandished her wand just as the purple liquid started to bubble. "_Evanesco_!" The purple colour vanished instantly, leaving just water and the remaining wood behind. "Potter, see me after class has finished," she said briskly, looking pale. "Come on now Richards, we haven't got all day."

Harry returned to his seat disappointed and bewildered. Why had McGonagall done that? And why had the water turned such a strange colour? "Something's up with her," Ron muttered to him, looking at the professor. She certainly seemed as though she wasn't quite all there at the moment. "I wonder why the purple water's making her act so weird?" Hermione shrugged, perplexed. She didn't have any idea either.

Dean Thomas received a miniature bear, which earned him a round of applause, and when Ron's turn finally came round, they discovered that his form was that of a wolf. After everyone was finished, McGonagall turned them out of the room even there was still ten minutes of the lesson left, and shut the door behind them before turning to Harry. "Potter, what did you do to your potion? Did you do anything different to the others?"

Harry stared at her. "I - I added my hair to it last week, like you said, and then today," he made a helpless movement, "I put it in the cauldron. I don't know why it didn't turn pink like everyone else's."

McGonagall sat down, still looking pale. "Harry," she said after a moments deliberation, and the boy began to get worried. It wasn't very often that she called him Harry, after all. "When the Aurors tested everyone for abilities, you turned out to be a Past-Reader, correct?"

Harry didn't know where this was going, but he still didn't like it. "Er - yes, professor. It turned lavender."

The teacher went slightly paler. "Ah. That's certainly the colour of a Past-Reader." she admitted, fiddling with her quill. "Harry, have you ever heard of Annumagi?"

Harry shook his head wordlessly.

"An Annumagus," McGonagall explained, still a little pale, "is an ability which gives powers much like an Animagus; however, although the 'ani' in Animagus comes the word animal, the 'annu' in Annumagus comes from the Latin for year, 'annus'." She took a deep breath, and breathed out again slowly to calm herself. "The Annumagus ability was thought to have died out along with the last person to have it, over three centuries ago. It should be completely impossible for you to have - but the results of the potion mixing shows that you have it."

Harry frowned. "But - isn't it impossible to have more than one ability?" he asked, recalling '_Rare Powers and Extinct Abilities_'. McGonagall nodded.

"That's just the point. Not only has the impossible been achieved by the mere fact of you having a supposedly non-existent ability - this throws all the theories of abilities out of the window - but there's another impossibility you've managed to make possible by having not one but _two_ of these powers; Past-Reading and Annumagus skills."

Harry quickly scanned through the information in his mind; the Annumagus wasn't mentioned in '_Rare Powers and Extinct Abilities_'; he wondered what other things were missing from the book. "Professor, what _is_ it? I mean, it obviously has something to do with being an Animagus - it is like an Instamagus, or something?"

McGonagall put the quill down and looked at Harry. "Normally, a person has one Animagus form, which suits their personality. However, an Annumagus has one form for every year since their birth. Which means that you, Harry, have fifteen Animagus forms - and next year you will have sixteen."

Harry couldn't help releasing a panicked scream at that. "_What?_ Are you _joking!_"

"I'm afraid I'm not," the woman said, colour starting to return to her face. "Of course, we'll have to run another test - I'm afraid the Animagus potion won't work with an Annumagus - for some reason it needs metal instead of wood." She rose and opened the cupboard again. It was a normal storage cupboard, Harry saw, a few books stacked on the shelves, and transfigured items littering elsewhere. The teacher moved further in and opened a large drawer, bringing out some small, rusty, dented travelling cauldrons. She cast a quick cleaning spell on them until they were gleaming brass again, and Harry moved aside to let her carry them out.

"I really shouldn't do this without alerting Albus first," she admitted as she levitated the bits of remaining wood out of the cauldron, and dropped the travelling cauldrons in, "but it would be a waste of his time if it turned out to be some kind of a fluke, and you're not really an Annumagus - there. The metal should replace the wood."

"Er - Professor?" Harry suddenly remembered. "I already used my potion."

"Never mind that," the teacher said briskly as she returned to the cupboard to search through another drawer. "I do have a different type of potion that should work the same way - it's quite expensive and hard to make, and it's only for emergencies, but I think this counts as one. Ah, here it is!"

From one of the racks, she brought out a small glass bottle of a pale yellow mixture; quite thick, it moved about the glass like runny eggs, and Harry saw that there wasn't much of it - there was a little less than of the other potion.

"There's enough for one go," she told him. "Right, give me one of your hairs."

Without waiting for him, she plucked one from Harry's head herself, making him give a small yelp of pain, and added the hair to the foul-looking concoction. The hair dissolved as soon as it sank into it, turning it a nasty shade of brown. McGonagall shook the bottle a few times to mix it, before pouring it into the giant cauldron.

It slid out in thick dollops, and Harry was reminded of a slight more watery version of the Polyjuice Potion he had helped make in his second year. As soon as it hit the water, it gave a nasty fizzing noise and starting turning the water the same shade of purple that it had become slightly earlier. This was all moving slightly too fast for Harry.

"Hold on," he said desperately, "Are you _sure_ we shouldn't wait for Dumbledore?"

His teacher was too wrapped up in the task ahead to give a verbal answer, but she gave a motion of her hand to show him she'd heard, and then a gasp. "Look!" she said, grabbing Harry by the shoulder and pulling him forwards to the cauldron. "It's starting to bubble. It'll take a bit longer than the one we used earlier, but it should work the same way. Now, if you are an Annumagus, then instead of the wood being used to create the figurine of a single animal, the metal will be used to make figurines of each form you have."

She was right - the substance was starting to bubble rapidly, faster than the potion he had used last, and something was rising up towards the surface, breaking the water as it came. The head appeared first, a brilliant, burnished brass with the potion pouring off it in tiny rivulets. As soon as the head appeared, the pair knew what it was. A king cobra, hood flared and its hissing tongue flicking at the air, endlessly staring in its captured moment.

As its body rose up, its long tail wound round and round into a spiral, gaining levels before its upright upper body and head, the brew finally ceased its ripples as the figure rose above the surface. It hovered there for a second, before Harry gave into temptation and reached out to take it so he could look closer.

It was quite light, though it was taller than the other peoples forms had been; half a foot high, it appeared ready to strike at its prey, its venomous fangs connected to poison sacs plainly visible. Being entirely brass, there was no colouring; Harry's signature mark of his scar was not there either, thankfully - he was fed up with people flicking their eyes to his scar when they met him, and he was glad to see that his form wouldn't be recognised like Ron's wolf form, which had markings like freckles on his snout.

There was no more time to admire the details; the liquid had started to bubble again, gently at first and then furiously, as though it were boiling. Out of the murky purple liquid, rose another brass statuette.

---

Out in the Forbidden Forest, Leone sat up against a gnarled oak tree and studied the roll of parchment she was holding. Honestly, did those morons up at the school really think her so stupid that she wouldn't make copies of the useful spells in the book? Here she was - she'd lost the battle, but not the war, and though the second strike would take a while to come, it was still coming. It hadn't taken her long to get back here - she was an Illusionist, after all, and accompanied by a daemon who was quite happy to kill anyone who saw her and might alert any Aurors.

She had her daemon, her scrolls containing the spells from the book, and the Myrrh Cage was safely hidden.

The plan was simple in its idea, but complicated to complete - it would take a long time to procure the ingredients, research the necessary information, and perform the ritual, and longer still for it to begin to take effect. Time didn't matter however; Natasha's body had already been cremated, impossible to raise, all thanks to Harry sodding Potter. Now, Leone had a plan for the greatest revenge possible. She would need help - or rather, someone who was so powerful and arrogant that they thought they couldn't be manipulated, who she would manipulate all the same. When it was finished, no-one could say that Potter was some kind of great Wizarding hero.

Mainly because, of course, there'd be no-one left to say anything. Leone was ambitious like that.

A few metres away, the daemon snapped the spine of the mouse it had caught, and swallowed it whole.

---

Tom had already finished reading the reports he had been sent (sometimes he considered burning down the Resistance headquarters just to be rid of the damn paperwork), and was now writing a summary for Sir Abyssay, cutting out any unimportant sections and leaving the crucial parts in.

There were a few things that had been ascertained about the MAD as it had been jokingly nick-named at the Resistance - Mysteriously Appearing Dragon - firstly, that it was not and Antipodean Opaleye, nor any one of the recognised dragon types. Secondly, that it was very unlikely it was living in the Forbidden Forest, as such a large creature would surely knock a few trees over if it landed in there, and there had been so suddenly created clearings in the past few weeks, so it was highly doubtful the dragon came from there in the first place.

Thirdly was the dragon's basic colours, size, and so on - which really came into the first section, but as these things were the only information they had managed to find, Tom was hoping to spread it out a bit to make it appear as though they knew everything except for what it had for breakfast.

Sir Abyssay would, of course, see through it, but it was worth a try.

Right; so, the amount of useful and definite information about the dragon; nil. Brilliant. He might as well hand in his resignation, everything was going so well. On top of that, there'd been no sightings of Nikastal or the daemon, which meant they could be anywhere, and on top of _that_ was the fact that the Phoenix had managed to get ninety-one percent on his Basic Auror Training test, and the OWL he had taken - Languages - had just come in.

Tom glanced at the copy of Potter's exam, which lay half-in, half-out of the In Tray, with a fluorescent-orange Muggle sticky-note attached, saying '_Urgent! Get a load of this score! And don't forget Will's leaving-party on Thursday_'. Tom sighed. His secretary had a very strange sense of humour. The main point though was - how the Hell had Potter gone from an average student to super-brain within a couple of months?

He'd got quite attached to the kid from all the reports he'd had to read about him - his latest Hospital stay thanks to Quirrel, or his slaying of a Basilisk - in fact, he was quite sorry that he was going to have to kill him.


	13. Chapter 13: Plants

Chapter 13: Plants 

"Magic is real, and dreams can come true." - The Good Witch's Guide to Wicked Ways

~ ~ ~

The second brass creature to rise out of the potion, the purple liquid streaming off it and dripping back into the cauldron, was a bat, its wings open wide as if in flight, and its tiny eyes focused on finding food.

"A pipstrel bat," McGonagall said quietly, without Harry having to ask. It hovered just above the potion, perfect in detail, every individual hair visible if viewed closely. Placing the cobra down on the desk behind him, Harry reached to take hold of this new metallic form, which was just as tall and light as the previous.

Harry sighed as the water started to send up a few bubbles. Obviously not only was the Transfiguration professor right about him being an Annumagus, but he was going to be here for a while yet.

~ ~ ~

An hour later, after Harry had rushed out of the classroom to find Ron and Hermione, McGonagall had shrunk the fifteen brass figures to make them easier to carry and brought to Dumbledore's office, explaining the situation.

"It certainly is quite a problem," the headmaster mused, a faint twinkle in his eyes. "How on earth is Harry going to keep all of these clean?"

"Albus!" McGonagall snapped, irritated. "Mr Potter has just destroyed not only several widely-accepted theories about the workings of abilities, but he has also destroyed at least one theory about the Animagus form as a whole. _No_ one, Annumagus or Animagus, has transformed into a _magical_ animal. It's impossible!"

"Obviously not, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled politely. "As Mr Potter has managed to do these things, it quite obviously _is_ possible. Most surprising, certainly - but possible all the same."

The teacher sighed in exasperation, and rubbed her forehead. "Albus, what are I going to do?"

Dumbledore took a lemon drop from the packet on his desk, still admiring the rather attractive (and wonderfully shiny) brass. "Do as you would have done if his form had turned out to be a mere fly; train him to turn into his other forms. I'm sure you'll manage. After all, why should turning into a magical animal be any different from turning into a non-magical animal?"

McGonagall couldn't find an answer to this, so she kept quiet.

~ ~ ~

All Ron could say when Harry finished describing what had happened, was "Bloody Hell, mate."

"Ron, that's not at all helpful," Hermione scolded, not really bothered with his uselessness - she was too busy drooling over the idea of the research that could come of this, and the idea of looking through half the books in the school library. "Harry, that's absolutely _amazing_! I think I might have an idea of why you're an Annumagus as well, although I could be wrong. I'm hardly an expert, after all."

Harry's face lit up. "Great! Come on, you could be right - it's worth a guess."

Hermione frowned as she though how to explain it. "It's like - oh, Ron, you probably won't understand a word I'm saying, but it's genes - DNA. There's traits that are dominant, and ones that are recessive; like if a person with black hair and a person with blond hair had a daughter, she would most likely have black hair - because black is dominant, so it wins over blond. Understand, Ron?"

"I get the black hair, blond hair bit," he agreed.

"Right." said Hermione, thankful she wouldn't have to spend an hour and a half explaining DNA. "Now, here's my idea. Maybe like hair colour or eye colour, abilities - like Annumagi, or Seers - are linked to genes. That would explain why abilities are usually passed down through families. Now, obviously, some abilities are recessive, and some are dominant -"

"And my Annumagi ability was in my family's genes - but it was lying dormant until it finally came back in me!" Harry finished ecstatically. "Hermione, you're a genius - but does that mean that _every _ability still exists?"

Hermione was silent for a moment, leaning back in one of the Gryffindor Common Rooms armchairs. "I don't _think_ so - I mean eventually, some abilities would get weaker as the blood got more diluted, until it disappeared entirely; but for it to wipe out of _everyone_ who was descended from those who had it in the first place would take a long time; so probably most abilities still exist, even though people think they're gone for good."

Harry pulled a face. "How are Wizards with stuff like that, anyway?"

The girl gave an apologetic look. "Pretty rubbish, actually. Most Wizards and Witches basically want to leave Magic with the Magic-users and science with the Muggles, so practically no-one in the Wizarding world knows much about DNA - if they did, they might have researched whether abilities were genetic or not."

"Well, it's likely," Ron added, "because abilities are usually hereditary, so it must be _something_ in the - DMA, did you say?"

"DNA," Hermione corrected him. "Anyway, you said your forms were a cobra and a bat, and that there were some magical animals; shouldn't there be fifteen, if you're an Annumagus?"

"Yeah," said Harry, not sure whether to be despondent that he was even less normal than he had thought, or excited that he could turn into more than just one creature. "After the bat, there was a Basilisk, and then a lion -" He paused so his friends could finish their gasps, "a Phoenix -" (he had to allow another pause here) "Will you please stop gasping? I'll never get done at this rate. After that was a Kneazle, a Hippocampus and a shark - I'm not sure which type, I'll have to look it up - there was a Gryffin, a raven, and a Granian - the type of winged horse - and..."

He paused again, frowning. "To be honest, I don't know what the last four were. I've never seen anything like them... nor had Professor McGonagall."

"What did they look like? Hermione'll probably know," Ron mentioned as he made himself comfortable.

"Well..." Harry started, trying to remember exactly how the figures had looked, "They were all brass, so I don't know what colour they should have been, but... well, the first one was sort of like a sea serpent; it had a really long body, but its head was like a dragon rather than a horse. It must have been a sea creature, because though it didn't have arms or legs, it had huge fins like wings on either side of its upper body. For a tail, it had long fins, like a Merperson." He waited for this to sink in, but Hermione shook her head.

"I don't know - I'll have to research it. What was the next one?"

"The second one," and Harry could remember this easily, "was like a mix between a dragon and a Volucris daemon. It had dragon-like wings, and a long tail which split into two at the end, like a stretched out snakes tongue. Its neck was long and thin, and its snout was shaped a bit like a beak; from between and just below the eyes, there was a horn pointing at a slant. Oh," he remembered suddenly, "and one of the really weird things about it was that its legs could be bent like a humans', instead of a Volucris or daemons'."

Hermione looked fascinated, but annoyed. "I don't know that one either! Harry, just tell us the last two and I'll stop you if I recognise them."

"Right," Harry agreed, and pushed himself further into the seat, screwing his eyes up as he recalled them. "The third one was a bird; it looked pretty small, about the size of a blackbird perhaps. Its tail had a few feathers at the end that were long and thin, and drooped down like on a Phoenix tail. On its head, there were plumes of about six feathers, just as thin and long as on the tail. These came straight out of the back of the head, the three nearer the top of its head starting to point in that direction, and the other three starting to fall downwards."

He paused, but Hermione gave no mention that she knew it. "The fourth one," he continued, hoping she would have some hint as to what _this_ was, "was like a ferret. It looked pretty vicious, and the only unusual thing about it was that with its tail, which was really long like the others', it ended a bit like a rattlesnakes' tail."

Hermione shook her head dejectedly. "I don't know any of those, and if McGonagall doesn't either - then I don't know _where_ we can research them. They're not Muggle animals, that certain."

"Maybe they're extinct?" Ron suggested.

Hermione frowned. "I don't think you can have extinct animals as an Animagus," she said slowly.

Ron snorted. "Well, Harry's trashed enough of the rules, why not that one?"

"Actually, you can have." Harry added. "McGonagall told me when my Gryffin appeared that it _was_ possible - apparently there was one Witch a few decades ago who turned into a woolly mammoth."

"Hold on!" Ron butted in, "When you say 'Griffin', you mean 'Griffin' with an 'i', not a 'y', right?"

Harry gave a weak smile. "I mean Gryffin with a 'y'. The now-extinct variety."

Ron looked impressed. "Cool!" he exclaimed, and seeing Hermione's puzzled look, explained. "Gryffins - although it should really be said 'Gry-fon', but most people just say Griffin - were really closely related to Griffins. They looked just like them - the head and front legs of a giant eagle, and the rest of them lion, but they had wings as well. The problem was that the feathers and bones from their wings were really powerfully magical, even more than Unicorn tail hair or Dragon heartstring, so a couple of centuries ago, they were all hunted to extinction. That was before we started getting our act together and trying to prevent that sort of thing happening."

Hermione now looked more thrilled than melancholy. "That's amazing! Harry, where are the figures?"

Harry shrugged. "McGonagall took them to Dumbledore. I'll get them back tomorrow, apparently; actually, I was thinking of shrinking them and sticking them on a charm bracelet. What do you think?"

Ron burst out laughing, but Hermione snapped out, "_Harry Potter_!" and began ranting out a lecture about taking the situation seriously. It didn't take too long; it was now ten thirty, and ignoring Hermione, the boys looked at each other, shrugged, and then started up to their dormitories, leaving a very angry Hermione behind.

~ ~ ~

Harry _did_ get the figurines back, the very next day; McGonagall came into the Gryffindor Common Room early in the morning, and left them contained with a large package with a note on it addressing it to Harry, so that it would attract less attention if she gave them to him in lesson or at the breakfast table.

There was no time for Harry to bring the figures out to show them to his friends; they had to rush to get to History on time (although to be frank, Harry couldn't see why they would _want_ to go to History in the first place).

Professor Binns, the ghost teacher of History of Magic, managed to set a new world record in boredom that day; he was so dull and 'dispirited', if you'll excuse the pun, that he even managed to make Hermione have a ten minute nap, which the other students were quite astounded by.

"Well, that wasted an hour of my life," Ron grumbled as they left the lesson. Binns was still droning on back in the classroom, unaware of not only the fact the bell had gone, but also that he was trying to teach a roomful of empty chairs and desks. "God, what I wouldn't give to play a good Quidditch match right now."

Harry looked pointedly out the window. "In _this_ weather?" he asked amused, as a layer of frost covered everything outside, and Professor Grubbly-Planks was rumoured to be smashing the ice that had covered the lake overnight. "Wait until the right season, mate, or you'll be turned into a snowman."

"Yes," Ron corrected him, "but I'll be a snowman _on a broom_, and that's what matters."

"Exactly a week until the Halloween party," Hermione remarked. "Harry, you're going with Cho - Ron, you and I need dates. I _knew_ I shouldn't have waited so long, Lavender and Parvati have had dates for _weeks_."

"It's not as if you need a date," Ron argued as they crossed down another corridor so they wouldn't have to go past Peeves. "I mean, Dumbledore didn't say anything about having to have a date like last year - just go by yourself, that's what _I'm _planning to do."

It was obvious that Hermione was having great difficulty in keeping her mouth closed, so that she wouldn't bite out a sarcastic comment about whether it might have more to do with the fact that nobody _wanted_ to go with Ron, so Harry decided it might be nicer to rush in and rescue her.

"Well, the party may be in a week," he said, racing for a topic, "but there's forty-three days to go until Hagrid's wedding. What are you going to get them?"

Hermione gave him a look of thanks. "I was thinking of something for their new home; I mean, it's not as if they're going to live together in Hagrid's hut, are they?"

Harry couldn't believe that hadn't crossed his mind. It looked like there was to be no more running down to Hagrid's hut in the evening, to pretend to eat the stony rock-cakes, drink tea, and talk about Norbert or lessons. At this, another thought, more shocking than disappointing, ran through Harry's mind, and he stood, stock-still, in the middle of the corridor. The pair looked at him, surprised.

"Hermione, Ron - what if he moves _away_?"

Now they looked confused. "Well; that's really the point," Ron commented. "That they go and live together."

"Not like that!" Harry burst out, annoyed, "I mean, what if they move _away_. Not like, into Hogsmeade or somewhere, but if Hagrid moves to France with Madame Maxime? I mean, he might quit his job and go live with her, and we'd barely ever see him!"

Now Ron and Hermione were frozen. "He wouldn't do that," Ron finally decided, "You know how he's so thankful to Dumbledore for letting him stay on and everything - he wouldn't just up and leave, when he's finally got his teaching post, and all his friends."

Hermione looked uncertain of this. "I don't know, Ron; I mean, he knows that Lucius Malfoy and the rest all want him out of his job, and love does do funny things to people..."

"Well, I won't believe it," declared Ron. "And neither would you, if you thought about this properly. The next time we see him, we'll ask him ourselves, and then that'll _prove_ he's not moving."

Although Ron sounded confident, Harry and Hermione couldn't help feeling anxious as they went with a heavy heart to their Transfiguration lesson, knowing there was a very real chance they might lose one of their friends.

~ ~ ~

At the end of Transfiguration, McGonagall announced that Animagus lessons would be at the usual time next in the next week, and _everyone_ - she stressed the word - would be starting to learn how to become their form. The trio caught this hint, and Harry was thankful that he wouldn't be dragged off for private lessons, or anything else.

Lunch time, Harry spent up in the dormitory. It was now common knowledge to the others in the dorm that Harry was eating healthily, and Neville had also decided this would be a good idea, as it would help with the Auror training, which he was not entirely fit enough for. Neville, however, had his delivered in the Great Hall, so that he could sit with the others, so he wouldn't miss any announcements.

After he had finished, Harry left the plate and glass on the bedside table for the House Elves to collect when they came in to clean, and switched on the laptop, slotting the rod in as it booted up.

There was nothing about the four unknown creatures in the 'Information' section, although Harry did gather information on the rest of his forms (apparently his shark form was that of a great white), and he also found several pages worth of information about Annumagi. Deciding not to waste the remaining space on the rod, Harry also filled the rest with information on various plants (he was still only average in Herbology), and used the rod.

Unfortunately, he had forgotten what had happened the last time he had used a completely full rod, and ended up with a splitting headache. He managed to calm it down after lying face down on his bed with the curtains pulled round, and by one thirty, there was barely a pang left.

COMC was next; it was a nasty reminder about Hagrid's possible leaving, and though the lesson on how to rid your garden of Horklumps was quite interesting, Harry fiercely determined that Hagrid could do much better, and that no teacher could ever replace him. He soon realised he was being quite ridiculous, since there was no actual proof that Hagrid would be leaving at all, but decided that it was better to be safe than sorry.

It was impossible to get into the library after lessons had finished, as the corridor it was situated on had to be declared impassable by Filch; a thick mist was filling the corridor, only contained by the wards that had hastily been put up by Flitwick, when it had been discovered. Apparently two of the students who had attempted to walk through it had been turned into Gnomes, and while half the teachers tried to work out ways to either turn the students back, or get rid of the mist, the other half were busy searching for Fred and George, who had (suspiciously) last been seen running in the opposite direction from the corridor. There was no doubt as to who the culprits were.

Ron was now competing in the unofficial Inter-House Chess Tournament (the next match would be early next month), and Hermione had the brilliant idea of how to spend their free time. She dragged a protesting Harry down to Hogsmeade, where she pointed out a quite modern looking shop called 'Skife and Brim Engravers'.

"The finals of the Inter-House Chess Tournament are going to be in January," Hermione explained, "So we can pool our money together and get a present for the whole _school_ - a cup, so that the chess champion can actually win something, rather than just a title."

The shop not only did engravings, but also sold cups, shields (not the armour kind) and statues to commemorate events. As it was getting closer to Halloween, there was several deals going on in-store; cups were on a 'buy now, pay next month' offer, while shields were offering free enchantments.

The pair scanned the shelves for half an hour, finally selecting a large, gold-coloured one, with a plaque at the base. It had two ornate handles, but was otherwise blank. They left it with the storekeeper (Mr. Skife), with orders for the plaque to say '_Inter-House Chess Champion_', as well as engravings of tiny chess pieces around the rim.

The total came to fifty-one Galleons and two Sickles (or just under a hundred and twenty-eight pounds) of which Harry had insisted paying thirty Galleons, after Hermione had firmly told him that she wasn't going to let him pay the full cost. The money would be subtracted from his account next month.

Before they went back to Hogwarts, Hermione raced into the bookstore to buy a new book they'd just got in; '_The Practice of Conjuration_' which looked incredibly dull.

"There's charms or enchantments, which affect things already there," Hermione explained eagerly, "And transfiguring things uses what's already there to make different things - but conjuration is a lot harder and far more complicated, because when you conjure something, you bring it forward out of absolutely nothing."

This sounded to Harry exactly like what he'd done with the Techno-Magic ice spell that he'd sent at the daemon, but he didn't mention it; it looked like he was strong enough to conjure things with no trouble, and his new wand - which was good for conjuration - would amplify that.

They returned to school just in time for supper; Harry quickly fled to the dormitory, so that he wouldn't be tempted by the succulent pork and juicy cutlets that were covering the table.

In the dormitory, he researched a bit of staff-fighting on the laptop, before turning it off and wondering what to do now. He wasn't in the mood to read, or research anything he didn't need to - there were no clues to follow up as to the whereabouts of the Myrrh Cage - he had no homework to finish - neither Sleepless nor Rhiannon were online - he couldn't fly, because a light snow had started just before they had returned - there was really nothing to do.

Sighing, he tapped his fingers on the package of Animagus forms, before he decided to practice changing. He knew how it was done in theory, thanks not only to his usual lessons, but also to the rod of '_The Tiger's Book of Transformation_', and '_Animagi: The MOM Authorised Guide_'.

Opening the package, Harry closed his eyes and picked one of the figures at random. It was the lion, frozen in the middle of a ferocious roar, crouched down and about to pounce. Harry cast the counter-spell to the shrinking one already on it so that it grew back to the size it had originally come out as, about half a foot tall.

Wrapping it in his Invisibility Cloak, Harry made his way through the school corridors until he came to the unused classroom he had first met Levina in. Placing the lion on one of the desks, he locked the door with a spell, and mentally ran through the basics of the Animagus transformation.

He focused on the lion figure, getting every detail imprinted in his mind. Once he had managed to change one part of himself - whether it was a single hair, or a whole paw - he would be able to change it easily the next time he tried. Once he had managed to change every part of his body, no matter how long it took him, he would be able to then change entirely into his other form with no trouble at all. Changing back would be quite easy as well, because the body would naturally want to return to its true form as soon as the mind let it.

Deciding that he would start extremely small, and try to change his eyes to the amber ones of a lion, Harry shut his own, and concentrated on what it would be like to have those eyes; how they would feel, the sort of detail that could be seen with them, how far away he could see things; when he'd done that, Harry opened his eyes and tried to actually _see_ like a lion - he told his body that he was a lion, that he could view things just as they could, and layered these thoughts with a hint of magic to make it more convincing to his brain.

As his brain started to believe that he could see things as a lion, Harry started concentrating on what a lion would think of the things it saw - how it would classify them, or whether it would ignore it. Now the change quickened, and he felt a tingle in his eyes as the magic got to work.

The muscles holding his eyes became more powerful and his vision became slightly blurred as the cones and rods that helped sight became stronger as well. A second later, his vision cleared out again, not stopping at his old human sight (which now seemed so inferior), but increasing until he could see each engraved hair on the figurine's body, and every dent in the wooden desk.

Blinking to get his eyes adjusted to this new level of sense, Harry looked slowly around the room, carefully noting that he could see where each ray of light fell. "Wow," was all he could whisper, as he tested himself by telling his body that as a human, he could never see as much as this. Instantly, there was a tingle, and his super-sight vanished. Now telling his body that if he could see once as a lion, then he could do it again, the sight returned.

Harry grinned triumphantly. He'd done it - mastered part of the transformation into a lion. There was still a lot more to go, however; taking it upon himself to attempt the claws, Harry did the same as he had done with his eyes - convince the brain that his nails were actually claws because he was a lion, and that he could sheathe or unsheathe them at will. This was a lot harder, because rather than simply increasing what he already had, Harry had to change much of the physiology of his fingers - in the end, he discovered that he couldn't do it, because his mind insisted that as lions had a claw on each of the three 'fingers' on each paw, Harry obviously _couldn't_ be a lion; Harry had to remedy this by giving up on claws, and changing his whole hand instead, which took far longer - obviously there were limitations to this sort of thing.

When he finally did manage to transform his right hand though, it was much easier to convince his brain to change his left hand - after all, he told it, if my right hand is a paw, why not my left? - and with them came the claws, which he could bring in or out of the velvety padding at will.

He was quite surprised however, by the fact that the fur on his paws - instead of being the golden of every other lion - was a deep, rich black, like a smooth, inky pool.

By the time he looked at his watch and realised that he would have to run if he were to make it back to the Room of Requirement before Filch started his rounds, Harry had managed to change both his hands and wrists into paws, his eyes into lions' eyes, and he had also managed to increase his hearing, although to do that, he had been forced to change his whole ears - which although he couldn't see, he guessed had the same black fur as his paws; he could also feel that they had taken the shape of lions' ones, and had moved up his head until strands of his hair nestled around them.

He made it to training right on nine o'clock, and Levina - as always - was already there waiting for him. "I don't suppose you heard about my little Animagus problem," he said by way of a greeting, before she even had a chance to open her mouth.

Levina raised an eyebrow. "Hello to you too. What Animagus problem?"

"Well, more of an _Annu_magus problem," Harry admitted, and told her the whole story from the Animagus lesson to his practice just a few minutes ago. Levina didn't seem too astounded; instead she appeared quite pleased.

"Good, I can help train you in that." she said matter-of-factly, as though turning into fifteen animals was the most normal thing in the world. "Now, have you researched any more about sword-fighting?"

Harry stared at her. "Um - hello? Can you perhaps give me a hint as to why the _Heck_ I'm an Annumagus?"

Levina looked at him, annoyed. "Honestly. It's as I said before, I don't know _everything_. One of your great-great-great-great ancestors probably had it, but it missed a few generations. Only people with power above a certain level can receive an ability; probably only Enchanters and above can have the Annumagus ability, and you were the first Enchanter for a while in your family. Anyway, it doesn't really matter."

Harry didn't quite see her reasoning for the 'it doesn't matter' part, but he decided to accept it for now and continue training. He was increasing the amount of time before he was beaten each session; however, he was still losing against Levina, and she insisted that he had to win five fights in a row against her before she'd take the sheathe off her sword and fight with the poison blade, and five more fights after that before she'd declare him fully trained, and move on to staff-fighting and then hand-to-hand fighting.

"I've added some more sword-fighting techniques to the laptop," she told him after their forty-seven minute fight, as Harry nursed several nasty bruises and a cut on his arm. "They're of a different fighting style to the ones from the books by Chal d'Sparrn, so if you're up against an opponent who's worked out your moves, switch into a different style to confuse him. There's a particularly nice backward thrust in the new information, as well."

"Yes, because that's really my priority right now," Harry grumbled, though he didn't mean it. "Thank you for cutting my arm off, it's a big help to my training."

"No, that comes next week." Levina told him. "Oh, stop whining, you can heal that in a second."

Harry gave up trying to gain sympathy and used some Techno-Magic to quickly heal the gash, which had been caused by Levina running the slightly angular edge of her scabbard over it when he had left an opening. "Yeah, but that's not the point," he bemoaned jokingly. "Hey - are we still going to train during the holidays?"

"Of course!" Levina snorted, as though he were an idiot to be unsure of it. "Oh, and that reminds me; I don't want you to have anything unhealthy at the Halloween feast."

Harry's jaw dropped. "But - but includes just about everything!"

"What a pity. Looks like you'll have to miss out," she said politely, smiling pleasantly. "Just ask the House Elves to bring you a nice salad or something up, because the second you enter the Great Hall, I'll be keeping my eye on you. Oh, and at Christmas dinner, you can have a slice of cake, but that's it."

Harry could do nothing but gawp, and the woman glared at him. "Would you destroy everything you've working at, all the days of discipline, just so you can stuff your face at the feast? I saw you sneaking that bit of chocolate at lunch a while ago -" (Harry pretended he hadn't heard that part) "- and I was nice enough not to tell you off because you'd done so well the rest of the time, but if I let you do as you want at the feast, we'll have to start over from scratch. You'll have your meal _before_ you come into the Hall, got it?"

Harry muttered an affirmative, and wondered how he was going to get through Christmas dinner with only a slice of cake to celebrate the day, and not even _that _much at Halloween, both days of which food was a big part of.

"Also," Levina said loudly, giving no sign that she'd seen his despondent look, "I think you do more exercising as well. It's all very well eating healthily, but that's not going to build the muscle you need to make your attacks powerful; if you hit someone with a sword, it's not going to do much good if it just gives them a bruise."

"I play Quidditch," Harry defended himself, but the woman was having none of it.

"Well, you're not doing it when it isn't the right season, are you?" she pointed out. "And besides, letting a broom do all the work isn't going to increase your stamina; and having these lessons just twice a week will only help a little. I think you need to do some proper exercises; just start off with a jog in the morning before breakfast, that sort of thing." Seeing Harry's dismay, she smirked. "I've been far too lenient with you, letting you use rods to learn; now you're going to have to work hard to better yourself, and believe me, it has to be done. You can know every fighting technique in the world, but if you can't do it, then what good is it to you?"

Harry had to admit that this was true, but that didn't mean he had to like it. "Fine," he submitted finally, wondering whether Levina was actually a personal-fitness trainer in disguise.

~ ~ ~

Thursday passed without incident, but Friday was the day that an official-looking owl swooped into the Great Hall at breakfast time, along with the rest of the post owls. Harry had already finished his breakfast (a small bowl of fruit and some kind of 'low fat cereal' stuff which tasted like cardboard) in the dormitory, and had finally forced himself into a ten minute jog around the school grounds, thanking whoever it was that invented warming charms.

He was now sitting with Ron and Hermione, waiting for the Daily Prophet to arrive and arguing over which Chocolate Frog cards were the rarest (Hermione was keeping out of _that_ conversation), as the tawny owl gave a deep hoot, and stuck out its leg so that Harry could untie the letter it was carrying.

"Who's it from?" Hermione asked interestedly, as the bird took flight and left.

Harry licked his lips nervously, his heart suddenly pounding. "It's got the Ministry seal in the corner," he told them. "It's my OWL result." Hermione and Ron exchanged identical looks.

"Open it then!" Ron urged, "Come on mate, it can't be bad - you had those rods to help you, and you said you found it really easy, right?" Harry nodded, feeling a little more confident.

"Yeah, you're right. I mean, I'm practically fluent in all three of the languages; how _could_ it be bad?" he said, more to reassure himself than to explain away his fears. Summoning up his reserve of Gryffindor courage, Harry tore the envelope open and brought out the folded parchment. His hand hovering over it he took a deep breath, and unfolded it. "Here goes nothing," he said, trying to sound cheerful, and began to read.

_Dear Mr. H. J. Potter, _

_The results of the Magical Languages exam at Ordinary Wizarding Level, higher tier, taken at 0900 on Monday, 22nd October at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, are as follows: _

_Written Exam: 95 % Outstanding _

_Aural Exam: 91 % Outstanding _

_Total (Median Average): 93 % Outstanding _

_These results have been noted by the Ministry of Magic, Education Department, and you have been recorded as an Outstanding pass on this subject, or an 'O'. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Murray Mackindle _

_(Head of the Education Department of the MOM) _

Slowly, Harry's mouth grew into the widest beam possible. "You won't believe this," he said, barely able to force the words up his throat. "Just _look _at this!"

He practically thrust the paper at his friends, and Hermione grabbed it and read through, before letting out a high-pitched scream of delight which made everyone else in the room jump. "You did it!" she shrieked, not caring who was watching, and Harry felt himself growing a bit embarrassed as the other students watched the trio in curiosity, and more than a few whispers went round.

"Er - right," Harry said, wondering how Hermione could be even more excited than Harry about his own score. "Look... do you think you could maybe, I dunno, sit down? Everyone's staring Her- Hermione? Are you listening? Oh, good grief." He gave up as Hermione raced over to the staff table to show his score to Professor Clayton.

"I think she's finally snapped," Ron said conversationally. "By the way, well done mate. I'll make sure not to mention it to my Mum, or she'll send you a whole wardrobe instead of a sweater for Christmas."

Harry was about to respond, but Professor Clayton had just reached him, and now clapped him on the back like an old friend. "Well done, Potter! Miss Granger's just shown me your result - looks like you won't be coming to the lesson today, will you? Use the extra time well; we're expecting great things from you."

Harry almost winced as he said something similar to that which Ollivander told him when he bought his first wand, but caught himself in time. Thanking the Professor, Harry glanced over his shoulder at the staff table. 'Carnaena' was smirking, Snape was scowling heavily, and the other teachers were looking suitable impressed and proud. The headmaster gave him a small nod and smile, and as he did so, the realisation of what he had just achieved caught up with him, and Harry's grin returned to his face.

By lunch-time, everyone knew that the reason for Hermione's outburst at breakfast, and people were now giving Harry the thumbs-up as he went past, or in the case of the Slytherins, glaring at him with such force he felt that if looks could kill, he wouldn't just be six foot under, he'd be halfway to the centre of the Earth and partially decomposed by now. Harry just gave them a cheerful smile and sarcastic wave in reply.

"You know, I wouldn't mind being the centre of attention if people reacted to me like this, instead of hero-worship or trying to run away," Harry commented as the trio passed Filch, who was having a fit after someone had charmed a permanent '_PROFESSOR POTTER: SULTAN OF THE SMART!!_' into one of the walls in multi-coloured, sparkly paint. The Weasley twins had been suspected, but as they had been in detention for the fog-filled corridor prank when it had appeared, it was likely the culprit would never be discovered.

The last two hours of the day were Magical Languages for Hermione, and Herbology for Ron. There was a choice for Harry now that he wouldn't have to take Magical Languages: use the free time to study, do homework and revise, or go to Herbology with the Gryffindors who weren't taking Magical Languages.

Harry eventually decided that he could use the spare time, so at one thirty, he was left alone in the Common Room whilst every other student (except the transfigured ones in the Hospital Wing; apparently they'd turn back after a week) went to their next lessons.

Feeling a little guilty that he'd turned down Herbology, Harry made up for it by researching several dozen species of magical plants and their properties (with the help of the laptop and rod), and finished his homework before wrapping up in his Winter cloak, casting a warming charm, and going for a twenty minute run around the school grounds, cursing Levina will all the breath he could muster once he'd finished, which wasn't very much.

There was still an hour of lessons before the other students returned, so Harry spent the rest of the time researching some Techno-Magic spells and some of the new sword-techniques that Levina had mentioned. When the others _did _return, Ron was absolutely appalled by the fact that Harry had been studying.

"Why did you waste your time like that?" he asked, amazed. "It wasn't as if any teachers were checking up on you, mate." Hermione was much more pleased, and since he had completed his assignments during his free time, Harry was left by himself again while his friends tried to complete their own. He'd offered to help Hermione with her Languages homework, but she had looked horrified at the idea of not doing it by herself, and shooed him away.

Harry and Ron managed to sneak into the kitchens to have their lunch early (they were quite thankful Hermione wasn't with them, as the House Elves seemed a little wary of her after she had begun the whole S.P.E.W business) before they went to Basic Auror Training, which was - much to the students' dismay - outside in the snow.

Harry didn't mind too much; he'd brought his Winter cloak with him, and cast a warming charm over himself and Ron before they went outside. After ten minutes, when the Aurors still hadn't arrived, Harry, Justin and Angelina went around putting warming charms on the others, at which the Aurors finally arrived, praising them for showing initiative; it seemed the 'wait outside for the tutors who aren't coming' had been a test of teamwork and helping others, and they were allowed to go back indoors and into one of the usually unused classrooms, which had now been cleared out and cleaned in preparation for the class.

There were no seats; the students stood and watched as Captain O'Keifer demonstrated several strategies and tactics employed by Aurors for planning raids on suspected strongholds or Dark artefacts storage places, with the help of moving models of buildings and Wizards, and why these strategies were made.

"And there I was, thinking they just blew in the door and ran in screaming for everyone to drop to the floor," Ron mused as they left the lesson. "Seriously though, I thought it took maybe a month to plan a proper raid, but _two_ months? I mean, bloody Hell, the Dark Wizards could have destroyed the whole building and evidence by then."

"I know," Harry agreed. "I mean, they're trained well for fighting and everything, but there's so much paperwork and red tape - that's another reason why I'd hate to be an Auror, having to get permission from about five different superiors before I could stop a bunch of Death Eaters from killing someone."

"Someone ought to change the system," Ron contemplated. "Hey, why don't you be a politician, Harry? You could be Minister of Magic in a year - your publicity's already done, and you'd care about what laws should and shouldn't be changed, instead of your own popularity, like Fudge."

Harry grimaced. "Thanks Ron, but I have no interest in becoming one of the living dead." he said, pulling a face, as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Aragorn," he told her, and she swung away revealing the entrance. He brightened up. "On the other hand, if I did become Minister, I could make a law banning the Head Boys and Girls from choosing daft passwords."

"Go for it," Ron said half-seriously, and they made their way up to the dormitory.

~ ~ ~

Saturday was spent in pure recreation, Harry starting to develop a spell in Spell Creation class that would make his wand light up when he was near a Witch or Wizard or above; it basically reacted to magic that was contained within a human, so it couldn't sense Squibs (who had no, or very little magic in them), nor any of the levels up to Witch and Wizard. As they had learned in magical theory, a never-ending pool of magic existed everywhere in the universe; creating a spell was the art of taking the right types of magic from the pool and refining it, then binding that spell to a trigger - such as a wave of a focus and an incantation, or simply concentrating (though most spells had an incantation as a trigger, as the caster could make it easier to control the power of their spells by using more forceful motions, or a quieter voice).

The 'pool' of magic was not like a stagnant pond; it was a flowing stream, and a magic-level was really not how much magic a human contained, but how much they could control; the more powerful the caster, the more magic they could 'absorb' from their surroundings and use to create a spell. As soon as they 'absorbed' the magic, focusing it with a trigger action, called the spell locus, it gained their own magical signature and the spell was cast.

As soon as the magic was gone from one place, taken in to be used for a spell, the cross-dimensional magic stream would rush in like water to fill the empty space.

Some spells - mainly Forbidden ones - left empathic signatures instead of magical signatures. This was because with some spells, the body didn't act as a conduit to the magic, and then have it forced out to the wand (or in wandless magic, just out as a spell). Instead, the magic was pulled through the mind - as the soul to the body, so was the mind to the brain - and then straight out to take effect, without passing through a focus. An imprint of the mind, like a fingerprint, was left by this type; and instead of existing only as the spell was cast, and then vanishing, like magical signatures, the empathic signature stayed around for a long time, from a few hours after the spell had been cast, up to several months for the most strong ones.

Harry also went to training that night, where Levina gave him a few more rods containing useful books; '_The Chameleon's Book of Beasts_', which was in the same series as '_The Tiger's Book of Transformation_', and worked in much the same way, except that it listed thousands of magical beasts rather than transfigurations; '_Demonology and Daemon Summoning Volume Two_', and '_Enchantments for the Journeyman_'.

Sunday continued successfully as well, partially due to the fact that Dumbledore announced that the wards had managed to be breached by the daemon because they had not (obviously) been strong enough - but now several professionals would be collaborating during lessons the next day to put up wards designed specifically against daemons, which meant there was no chance that any daemon would ever be able to enter school grounds.

There were loud cheers at this piece of news (though why the students thought another daemon might attempt to enter school grounds - for the media was telling everyone that the one that had killed Trelawney was dead - Harry didn't know), and the trio and those of the teachers who knew the daemon was still alive were most relieved.

Monday passed around, and as it arrived, Ron pointed out that they had only a month until the Christmas holidays began (and just two days until the Halloween party, Harry sighed happily as he thought of Cho Chang). "Boys," Hermione snorted, annoyed. "Holidays and girls. Is that all you ever think of?"

"There's Quidditch!" retorted Ron, and took another swig of Pumpkin Juice, reminding Harry that he'd have to stop coming down to meet the others after he'd had his own breakfast. "And food, of course." Ron added.

"Me more than anyone else," Harry said glumly, and Ron patted him on the back.

"Well - we'll try to sneak you some food from the feast," Ron said, not sounding entirely certain it would work.

Harry shrugged. "Nah - don't bother. I mean, I'm doing this for a reason... it's not like I want to destroy what I've been working for." Hermione looked impressed by this.

"Well done, Harry!" she praised, pleased that at least one of the boys was thinking without their stomach.

Harry was about to mention the fact that he was sure his tutor would find out somehow, anyway, but Hermione then realised that lessons started in five minutes, and she and Ron were forced to abandon their half-finished breakfast, and run to the next lesson before they were late.

Magical Languages was the first hours worth of lessons for Harry - but no longer taking it, he instead practised turning into his lion form learning how to change the rest of his arms, and also change his hair into a mane. This took much of the time, and the remaining few minutes were spent watching out the window as the specialised wards were put up. Only Captains O'Keifer and Marcella, and no Unspeakables (except for Professor Figg) now guarded the school, and all three were out along with Dumbledore, the temporarily returning Embeller Adoric and several Ministry Ward-Creators around the edge of the grounds, each creating a 'wall' every hundred yards which would be joined on to each other before the adults moved on to create new sections.

The entire process looked as though it would take the rest of the day - excluding breaks for them to rest, as well - and Harry quickly grew bored of watching the repetitive actions.

After break was Defence Against the Dark Arts. They had long since finished daemons, and were now focusing on Vampires, half-Vampires and Wraiths, which Harry learned to be quite different from the Muggle horror films that Dudley occasionally watched. Lunch was after that (Harry kept Ron busy while Hermione sneaked down to Hogsmeade to collect the Chess Cup), followed by Charms.

Harry, who had of course learned the entire book (actually, so had Hermione, but _she_ didn't remember the page numbers now, did she?) quickly whipped through the spell they were being taught, and at Flitwick's request, gave a demonstration of the next two they were meant to be learning - a spell to learn the exact time and date, and a more powerful form of _Wingardium Leviosa_, which would make the caster float a foot or so off the ground.

All anyone was talking about once lessons had ended was the Halloween party the next day; Ron and Hermione still hadn't found dates (personally, Harry suspected they wanted to go with each other, but were too afraid to ask - well, he'd let them do it in their own time), Harry was still daydreaming happily about his date with Cho - when Seamus pointed out, 'It's not really a date, is it? I mean, you're not _going _anywhere, you're just wandering around the Great Hall with each other', Harry told him to sod off - and Ginny was going with Ivan Gregor, one of the transfer students who had asked her to accompany him.

Ron wasn't happy about this (Gregor had been sorted into Slytherin), but Harry and Hermione finally managed to shut him up by pointing out that he'd only be there for the year, which had less than eight months to go, anyway.

In Amulet Making, Harry finished his plans, and started collecting the materials needed to create the amulet. '_Finally_,' Harry thought, satisfied, as he made his way back up to the dormitory; '_A chapter that doesn't end on a cliff-hanger for the readers._' Wondering what he'd meant by that fourth-wall-breaking thought, he was interrupted by the far-off sound of the entrance hall doors slamming open, and the raised voices of strangers entered the school.


	14. Chapter 14: Elements

Chapter 14: Elements

---

"In the military, more is not better." - The Art of War

---

Harry stopped as he heard the doors opening. Who would be coming to Hogwarts right now? It was six o'clock, and he was quite sure that the Ministry would more than likely conduct any enquiries by letter or the fireplace.

Deciding that Ron and Hermione could certainly wait for a few extra minutes, Harry turned back, and moved as quickly and quietly as possible to the beginning of corridor, from where the stairs led down to the entrance hall. He stood straight against the wall and out of sight, tilting his head slightly to hear better.

Dumbledore had obviously already greeted whoever it was, and was suggesting that they go to his office if they were to talk further. Harry desperately hoped they wouldn't - there'd be no chance of spying on them then. His hopes were dashed, however, when a woman's voice - very sharp and authoritative - coolly replied that it was a good suggestion. The footsteps sounded again, quieter as they moved on from the tiles to the carpeted stairs.

Ducking into the classroom opposite, Harry hid as the headmaster and the woman - and it sounded like someone else, as well - passed by. Feeling a little guilty that he was running around spying on his mentor, Harry opened the door a crack, and peered through the gap. Dumbledore was on the left, the woman was in the middle, and walking on the woman's right was a man.

The woman had straight white hair, clipped up in a severe manner, though she looked to be in her mid- or late-twenties. She wore an expensive black business suit, looking extremely out of place next to Dumbledore's robes, and walked with an air of formality. The man walked slightly more casually, with his hands in his jeans pockets, and a black t-shirt. Hehad black hair, neatly styled, and Harry wished he could see their faces.

They were both dressed in Muggle clothes, and they didn't look like the Witches and Wizards at the Quidditch World Cup, who had no clue what to wear apart from robes - they seemed perfectly at ease in them, as though they wore these sorts of clothes all the time. Could Dumbledore be dealing with Muggles?

Knowing that wouldn't say anything out of Dumbledore's office, Harry waited until they turned a corner, and then slipped out to make his way up to the Tower. Ron and Hermione _had_ to know about _this_.

---

"Perhaps they're Aurors or something, and they've just been working undercover in the Muggle world?" Hermione suggested, but Harry shook his head in disagreement.

"No. The woman - I don't know, but all the Aurors I've met take orders from Dumbledore, or at least act really respectful of him. But with the these people, it looked like the woman was the one in charge, and Professor Dumbledore was being respectful of _her_."

They were in the Gryffindor Common Room, where Ron and Harry were playing chess (Harry was losing miserably, and he decided that he'd have to research some chess moves on the laptop) and Hermione was puzzling over what Harry had just told them about the incident in the entrance hall.

"Maybe they're Squibs, and they were actually _living_ as Muggles," Ron offered.

"That wouldn't explain why Dumbledore was being so humble, though," Hermione pointed out. "Harry, move the Bishop, not the pawn - look, the chess pieces are giving you advice, why not listen to it for once?"

"Because I end up losing anyway!" Harry retorted. "At least if I ignore their advice, I end up losing _my_ way."

Hermione gave a snort that sounded suspiciously like '_Boys_', before returning to the reason for their confusion.

"I wonder why they didn't arrive by Floo Powder," she wondered aloud. "I mean, it's not as though there was a whole troop of them arriving - well, as far as we know, anyway."

"I know why!" Ron piped up, after checkmating Harry for the third time in a row. "I was talking to Professor Figg yesterday about the wards they just put up. Apparently such powerful magic needs a while to settle into the school magic, so a lot of magic that has to work on both sides of the wards - like Apparating inside or outside, sending magical messages, Flooing into school, and stuff - none of it works."

Harry recalled this information from '_Shields, Wards and Other Protective Magic_' and also remembered that it would take another few days for the wards to completely settle and assimilate themselves with the previous wards.

"Well - that explains why they didn't Floo," he admitted, "but there's still no clue as to who they _are_."

"Who cares?" Ron pointed out. "It probably has nothing to do with us, and if it did, then I'm sure Dumbledore would tell us, either today or tomorrow. If he doesn't tell us, than it has nothing to with any of us, and it's pointless to worry about it." Hermione looked quite astounded by this.

"That's probably the smartest thing you've said all day," she declared. "Harry, Ron's right. Why bother getting worked up over this, when for all we know, Dumbledore's just arranging to buy some new school equipment?"

"I suppose you're right," Harry granted, still ignoring his chess pieces' yells.

---

At breakfast on Tuesday, there were no notices for Harry to go to the headmaster's office, so the trio were relieved to know it had nothing to do with them - although Harry was still aching to know who the 'Mysterious Possibly-Muggles' were. The decorations for the Great Hall were going to be put up during lessons tomorrow so that they would remain a surprise, which meant that the Hall was still quite bare in the morning.

Hermione and Ron still hadn't found dates for the party tomorrow evening - nor had they asked each other - so it looked like they were going to be closer to Harry and Cho than Harry would have liked.

The trio didn't really concentrate on lessons; they ran through Herbology, zipped through Potions, and then went through Divination as fast as they could without Carnaena catching them checking their watches repeatedly; Levina was unfortunately even better at catching people mess around than McGonagall, thanks to her 20/20 vision.

Finally though, the lessons were over, and at five o'clock, the students were waiting in the Transfiguration classroom for their Animagus lessons. McGonagall turned up right on the minute, looking around the class.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had arrived early so that they could get seats near the front of the room; the Professor, however, motioned everyone to stand up, before she stepped in front of them.

"By the end of the lesson," she announced in her Scottish accent, "I expect you all to have at least changed several inches of yourself. The more magically powerful you are, the more you are likely to be able to change in a shorter space of time. Therefore, Mr Potter for example, who at Basic Auror Training was found to have a power-level in the six-hundreds,' (Harry got more than a few glances at that) 'would find it twice as easy as someone with power in the three-hundreds. Don't worry if you can't alter anything yet - just keep focusing, and it will happen."

The teacher looked around the class again, searching for anyone who wasn't paying attention. "Now, is there anyone who's been practising before this lesson?"

A few people put their hands up - Justin Finch-Fletchley, some sixth-years, one of the seventh-years, and Harry. Hermione looked a little ashamed that she hadn't attempted it. "Did you accomplish anything?" McGonagall asked, and one of the sixth-year's hands went down. Everyone else's stayed up, for which Harry was glad - he would have hated to be the only one who could partially change already.

McGonagall seemed pleased. "Good work," she praised, "Now, for everyone else, I'll be going around and helping you begin the ways we discussed in Transfiguration. Those who've partially Transformed will have an advantage, so you continue as far as you can go, and if you need any help, just call me. Now, spread out and begin."

Harry moved over into the far corner of the front of the room, just beside one of the windows. Spending half a minute to put himself in the right frame of mind, he then told his body to change as far as he had before - the eyes, ears, paws, arms and mane. Feeling quite proud of himself, Harry checked the rest of the class.

Those who hadn't already practised hadn't changed at all yet; Justin had managed to grow fur over the sides of his face, and change his ears, but that was all; the sixth-years had managed to do some more; the seventh-years had managed quite a bit; but really the only person to have accomplished anywhere near the amount was Adrian Delves, a sixth-year Ravenclaw who had changed his arms into seagull wings, and turned his hair to feathers.

Harry now attempted the transformation of the snout. He would need a different skeletal structure for this, but the magic would instantly take care of that - as long as he _knew_ that he would need it, it didn't matter whether he knew the details of exactly how much bigger or smaller, wider or narrower, it would have to be.

Clearing his head of the thought that he must look quite ridiculous, Harry started to focus on the idea of the lion's snout. How would it affect his vision? Well, it _was_ affecting his vision - he was a lion, after all. As soon as logical mind told him that this was quite ridiculous, and he was a human being, Harry quashed it with the comeback that if he was human, why did he have a mane, and slipped a little magic into the suggestion.

'_I have a snout_,' Harry told himself firmly, '_A lion's snout, with fur, and powerful jaws, and canines and incisors that will tear my prey apart_.' There was a tingling sensation, which turned slightly itchy, as Harry's face bulged slowly and painlessly outwards, glossy black fur spreading out over it like rapidly-growing grass.

Knowing that as this would make his body even more certain he was a lion - which meant he wouldn't have to slip it some more magic for the next part - Harry quickly told it that as he had a snout and eyes, ears and mane, then obviously the rest of his head must be that of a lions' as well.

His brain accepted this easily, having still not used up the magic he'd just convinced it with a moment ago, and the rest of his face, moving round to the back of his head, started to tingle and itch as the fur grew there too, and his head started to shift proportions slightly. His snout had now finished, and his teeth were starting to lengthen and sharpen. Harry's eyes moved further apart to keep up with the change in his skull, giving an uncomfortable sensation before they settled. He blinked to make himself used to this new 'almost-180 degrees' part of his vision.

Hermione, he saw, had already managed to make a beautiful white feather-pattern over herself and her clothes - clothes were, of course, part of the Animagus transformation, as for example, Harry's own robe sleeves had changed to become part of the fur on his hands. Ron had his eyes screwed up in concentration, and had also managed to modify his face until it had a long, narrow snout - Harry nearly burst into laughter seeing it. He really looked quite ridiculous, as fur had yet to grow on it, and it was entirely covered in normal human skin.

Harry shifted back to his human form to regain his thoughts, and decided that the next step after the head, neck and arms would be the shoulders, so that he could work down the body. Reverting back to his partially-lion appearance, he made another suggestion to his brain, giving the proposal another hint of magic.

He managed to make his robes fuse painlessly and almost instantly with his skin and grow fur, as well as the tough lion flesh, but he couldn't entirely transform his shoulders; it would obviously need bigger changes to his overall skeleton, unlike with the arms, where he could easily change several bones.

By the end of the lesson, Harry had decided to skip the shoulders, and had instead concentrated on growing the sable fur over as much of his body as he could. Hermione, the fast learner as always, had completely covered herself in snow-white feathers, while Ron had managed to turn most of his head into that of a wolf, growing reddish-brown fur that was a silvery white around the muzzle.

"That was brilliant!" Hermione said excitedly as they left the lesson, and the boys thoroughly agreed. "Harry, what are you going to do when you finish your lion form? I mean, you're going to be finished long before anyone else, and I don't suppose it would be very good if people found out you had more than one form..."

Harry hadn't thought about that. "I suppose," he postulated, "that I'll ask Professor McGonagall if she can train me in private - although actually, I don't know whether I _want_ to become all those animals."

Ron looked surprised, so Harry elaborated.

"What I mean is, what need do I have of them? I mean, everyone else is happy with just the one - why should I have any more? It's not as though I'm going to need to change into each of them for every day of my life, or else I'll die. No, I think I'll just stick with the lion, cobra and bat. That way, no-one knows I can change into magical beasts - plus I get the running, slithering, _and_ flying aspects," he grinned, as they reached the Great Hall for supper.

---

They ate well - Harry excluded of course, for he just watched in misery, impatient to get up to the dormitory where Cobbit or Dobby would bring him his own dinner - before returning to Gryffindor Tower, Harry wolfing down his meal and Hermione finishing her Golem leaflets to hand out to those interested in S.P.E.W.

Ron simply practised his chess for the Inter-House Championship against one of the seventh-years.

Deciding that it was a day well spent, Harry went to bed early to make up for any sleep that would be lost for Astronomy, and once he returned from that as well, he slept soundly through the rest of the night.

Voldemort, unfortunately, hadn't been sleeping the previous night. To 'commemorate' his downfall fourteen years ago, he had (or so the Daily Prophet reported on Wednesday morning) slaughtered one of the Muggle-born citizens of Hogsmeade, leaving a Dark Mark over his store and levitating his mangled corpse up just underneath it.

Harry felt quite sick when he saw the photograph of the building and Dark Mark (though the body was missing from the picture); it was the same apothecary that he had bought the herbs and Oxtamed from, and now the store-keeper was dead. This was a terrible tragedy - he was down to only twelve pills, and had been planning to buy more.

Shaking this rather insensitive thought from his mind, Harry finished reading the article, and then passed the paper back to Ron, his day ruined before it had even begun.

---

In History of Magic, Harry quite frankly couldn't give a damn; he was mixed up over the feelings of his crush on Cho, loathing of parties, boredom of History, horror of Voldemort's murder, fear that someone he knew would be next, worry that Leone or the daemon would make a return, hope that the Myrrh Cage would be found, confusion over _what _exactly that damned dragon was, annoyance at the fact that he now had to exercise and skip the feasts, and the more recent and possibly even greater displeasure that he would have to be very careful how he used his last pills until someone else took over the apothecary.

Suddenly remembering how he'd managed to get himself free of Magical Languages, Harry hit on possibly the most brilliant plan he'd come up with since 'stick the fang in Riddle's diary'. Or the 'summon Firebolt to get past dragon' - whichever you think is more ingenious, really.

Sticking his hand up, Harry took no notice as the class went as amazed as they had when Hermione had asked a question in second year about the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Binns, incredibly managing to see that everyone was suddenly paying attention to _something_ rather than continuing with their eyes glazed over, blinked owlishly.

"Yes, Mr Peters?"

Deciding not to mention that his name was Potter, Harry went straight on to the question. "Professor," he asked, "Is everything we need to know to pass our History of Magic OWL in the textbook? And we don't have to submit any essays, or anything?" The ghost seemed overwhelmed that a student was actually showing interest in the OWL.

"I wrote the textbook specifically for OWL standard," he replied slowly, "containing all the information you'd need to pass. And no, you don't need to submit any work - just finish the exam."

Harry held back a smile. Perhaps this morning would be good after all.

---

At break, Harry couldn't find Dumbledore, so he went to McGonagall's office instead. She looked over her spectacles at him in astonishment as he sat opposite her desk.

"You want to do _what_?" she asked, as though she couldn't quite believe she'd heard him correctly.

"I'd like to take my History OWL early, like I did with the Language OWL." Harry repeated. "Is it possible?"

The professor opened her mouth, drew a blank, and shut it again. Then she cleared her throat, and attempted to speak once more. "Well - yes, it is possible... but really, are you quite sure? You've been a fairly average student in the subject for all the time you've been here, and you must excuse me if I believe that you'd be even less than that if you didn't have Miss Granger's notes to help you."

"I really think I can do it Professor," Harry insisted. "I've been spending a lot of my free time doing History work to catch up - when I'm not being kidnapped by daemon Summoners, that is - and I think I'm far enough."

McGonagall still looked uncertain. "Well, normally I'd just say no; but since you managed to learn Telepathy and Phoex before the Languages class even started them, and got ninety-three percent on your OWL - I'll talk with the headmaster, and see what I can do for you. I'm not promising anything, mind."

"Thank you, Professor!" Harry said, rising from his seat. "I promise, if I do get to do it, I'll pass."

He left the office feeling quite pleased with himself. Everything they needed for the OWL was inside the book, Binns had said, and as Harry had used a rod to memorise the entire book, there was no chance of failing.

Transfiguration was next, but as the teacher hadn't had any time to ask the headmaster about the OWL yet, it was unlikely he would find out the answer today. At lunch, Harry explained to Ron and Hermione what he wanted to do. "You'd skip History lessons then, wouldn't you?" Ron said, looking impressed. "That would give you an extra - three hours a week spare time?" he asked Harry, who was (dolefully) eating some celery.

Harry nodded. "Of course, I don't know whether I'm going to be allowed to _do_ the OWL, but if I do, then I'll definitely pass. Plus it means that on Friday, I'll only have an hour of Transfiguration in the morning and nothing else for the rest of the day." Ron looked even more dazzled by this.

"Do you think they'll be able to put all the decorations up within two hours?" Hermione asked, changing the subject. "I mean, they're decorating the Hall for the party, right after lunch."

"Of course they'll have enough time." scoffed Ron, "After all, they've got magic and they've already decorated the rest of the school; one room, even as big as this, won't take them two hours. When does the party start?"

"Six o'clock," Harry replied immediately. "So Cho's going to be a bit late; she takes Apparition lessons."

Ron rolled his eyes at how Harry had turned an innocuous question into something to do with Cho Chang, and then left his empty plate as it was time for the trio to get to Care of Magical Creatures.

---

The students weren't allowed into the Great Hall when they returned from lessons; there were of course, a variety of rumours about what was going on inside - some said that the teachers were releasing rats and tarantulas to give a more scary atmosphere, while others said that they were having problems - Flitwick had accidentally been turned into a pumpkin, and was now hovering twelve metres off the floor.

Harry personally believed that the teachers just wanted to keep the decorations a surprise until the feast and party. He, Hermione and Ron spent the time up until six o'clock in the library (which had now been cleared of fog), where they easily finished their Care of Magical Creatures homework.

When the announcement came that the party was about to begin, Harry was (surprisingly) one of last to leap to his feet and make his way downstairs. "Don't you want to see what Cho looks like?" Hermione scolded, dressed in her new kimono-like robes. Harry and Ron had also changed into theirs (Ron was looking particularly satisfied with his scarlet velvet dress robes), and Hermione and Ron were now dragging Harry down the stairs.

"I don't want to go!" Harry wailed as they passed a curious looking portrait.

"Nerves," Hermione informed Ron in a knowledgeable way. "Harry, she's not even going to be there for the first ten minutes, because she has to go from Apparition class to her dormitory to get changed. Just stay in there - _will you stop struggling!_ - have a drink or two to calm yourself, and - oh look, for goodness sake. You can duel You-Know-Who, you can face a daemon, but you can't go out with a girl?"

"I didn't have a choice in the first two matters," Harry muttered, but stopped struggling.

"Well, you were the one who agreed to go out with her," Ron pointed out. "You've been looking forward to this for ages." They reached the Great Hall doors now, and they stepped aside of the crowd in students pouring in, so that Harry could call upon his courage to not fail him.

"Oh, honestly. It's not like she's even in there, right now." Hermione snorted, annoyed. Harry glared at her, which made her shut up, before straightening. Now prepared, the trio followed the last members of the crowd in.

---

The Hall was breathtaking - even more so than most Halloweens; extra care had been put into it, now that there was a party afterwards. Bats chittered from the alcoves, occasionally flying off. The ceiling had been enchanted to look like a full moon, with dark grey clouds occasionally drifting across it.

Black roses hung on vines instead of bushes, entwining gracefully around lights, doors, windows and tables. The candles that floated in pumpkins' mouths were a luminescent blue, not yet lit, and the tables were around the edges of the room, carrying all manner of treats and drinks. The centre of the Hall was the dance floor, where everyone was milling around at the moment, sneaking some of the snacks, and waiting for the band.

Wishing that he'd had his supper now instead of later, Harry avoided looking at the food, and instead watched the stage, where the black roses were climbing up. There was another quarter of a minute of murmurs and chatting, before in a flash, the curtains on the stage swept across, and the candles in the pumpkins lit with an eerie blue light.

Many of the students started whistling and cheering; Harry recognised the Witch who was taking centre stage from one of Seamus' posters - Celestina Warbeck.

"I don't know how Dumbledore managed to book _her_!" Ron yelled over the tune of '_Magic All Around You_'. "She never usually does small gigs like this - it's only big concerts or charity events that she usually does."

Harry nodded to show that he'd heard, but he wasn't really listening to the music; Cho would be here in (he checked his watch) six minutes. Looking around, he saw that Levina was standing over by the door with her arms crossed, watching him. When he gave her a curious look, she pointed to the food table, then at him, then ran a finger across her neck. Harry rolled his eyes and held his hands up. Honestly, he could resist food for a few hours.

He made his way across to the drinks table, and saw that one of his usual drinks; the Wizarding brand of kiwi-juice that he had taken to. "Thanks Dobby," Harry said quietly, pouring himself a glass.

Not entirely sure whether he wanted Cho to come right now or not at all, he started drinking, and listening to Celestina's next song, '_Your Sweet Summertime_'. It didn't sound much like a Halloween song, he thought critically, but no-one else seemed to mind; in fact, Ginny and Ivan were laughing at something over by a huge plate carrying a pyramid of cakes, and it looked like Ron had plucked up the courage to ask Hermione to dance with him.

Masking a smirk as he saw them drift off to the dance floor, someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he spun around. "Cho, h-" he began, but to his astonishment, it was Professor McGonagall.

"Mr Potter, I'm sorry to interrupt your evening, but the headmaster wants to see you." she said briskly, and began leading him to the exit. Harry followed uncertainly behind, shrugging helplessly as he passed Levina.

'_I'll tell Chang you had to go_' she mouthed as the pair left, and Harry felt even worse. Now Cho would think that Harry didn't want to go out with her, and had run off to do something else without bothering to tell her.

Leaving the sounds of the students and '_Your Sweet Summertime_' behind, Harry found himself trailing behind the teacher and wondering why Dumbledore wanted to see him, but too afraid to ask. As she led him to the gargoyle which guarded the headmaster's office, she said the password ('Wine Gums'), and it moved aside.

"Go on, Potter," she told him, motioning to the staircase within. Harry did so, following it up to the oak door and now being the one to leave the deputy headteacher behind. He knocked on the door, before pushing it open; Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, a twinkle in his eye. "Harry, do sit down," he said, conjuring a high-backed, comfortable chair out of nowhere with a flick of his wand. Fawkes, Harry noticed, wasn't there.

Harry moved forwards, shutting the door behind him and sank into the padded seat of chair facing Dumbledore.

"Now, Harry," he said, lacing his fingers together and peering at Harry over the tops of his half-moon glasses. "Professor McGonagall has told me that you expressed a wish to do your History of Magic OWL early."

A look of relief passed over Harry's face. Not only was this not about someone being killed, or him being targeted for something, but it looked like they were considering his request. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore."

The man looked pleased. "That is most interesting, Harry; the usual requests I get about OWLs is to do them later, not earlier. Now, I have been talking with the board of Governors, and they agree that due to your recent improvement of work to exceptional standards, and taking into consideration your scores on the Language OWL, it would be permissible to allow you to take your History OWL - Friday, at the earliest. Do you still want to?"

Harry couldn't say yes fast enough.

They sorted out the time - Harry would begin the test on Saturday at one o'clock. The exam lasted three and a half hours, and where he would take it in the same room he had gone to for his previous OWL - and Harry was also glad to hear that Mr Whaits would be returning for his exam, rather than someone like Lucius Malfoy.

By the time they'd finished - they also discussed Leone and the daemon a little more, as well as Harry's rather unusual Annumagus ability - it was seven twenty-five, and the Halloween party was meant to end at seven thirty, when the main feast was brought out. Harry made his excuses, and rushed down, taking another ten minutes (to his growing dismay, Peeves had managed to lock several doors, two of which he could have taken for short-cuts).

By the time he made it down, the tables had been brought out to the centre of the room, and two more tables had been added, holding main courses. Plenty of smaller tables for students to sit in groups had been put around the sides of the rooms, and Harry spotted Hermione and Ron sitting at a circular one which would seat three.

"Where's Cho?" he asked Levina, who was still by the door, obviously on 'guard duty'.

"I told her the headmaster wanted to see you. She didn't seem too impressed," Levina shrugged. "She left in a huff when I said you weren't here - she wasn't your type anyway."

Harry felt like flinging himself to the floor and beating the ground with his fists, wailing loudly. Thankfully, he managed to resist this strong and sudden urge. "She _left_?"

"No, Potter, I was joking. I'm really Chang in disguise. Yes, she left."

Visibly wilting, Harry drifted heavily over to Ron and Hermione, and fell to his seat.

"I take it you heard about Cho, then?" Ron said wisely.

"Left." muttered Harry. Hermione tsked.

"Well, I told you she wasn't the right one for you. I mean, it wasn't as if you'd run off to play Quidditch, for goodness sake. Professor Carnaena told her that McGonagall had taken you to see the headmaster, and she looked as though she were going to have a fit. I mean, honestly. Seriously, I think she just wanted to be seen with you."

"Thanks for Love Advice 101, Hermione, but right now, I'm hungry." Harry grumbled. "Still, if the House Elves made sure to put my drink out, they'll probably have stuck some salad or something, as well."

It turned out that they had, as well as several bowls of fruit, rolls, vegetables, and pasta. Harry, not caring that the food didn't go together, filled a plate with rice, a tuna roll, some tomatoes, and a slice of melon. He grabbed a couple of carrots and added some mashed potato to his bizarre meal to finish with, and made his way back.

Harry glared at him over a spoonful of rice. "I took what looked healthy. I didn't bother taking matching food."

Ron shrugged. "Fair enough."

---

At training, Harry couldn't help but glare at Levina the whole way through, even though he knew it wasn't her fault. He'd given back the used rods now (except the one he used to take information from his own books or the laptop), and tonight she gave him '_Maintenance of the Stiletto and Sword_', and '_Alchemical Experimentation_'.

"Hmph." he grumbled as thanks, still annoyed that her talk with Cho hadn't made the sixth-year remain and wait for him. "Are we going to release the Unicorn soon?"

"During the Christmas holidays." Levina replied, "when most of the school's gone, so no-one will see us walking around with a Unicorn mare. She's all white now, by the way - much taller than she was, as well."

Harry couldn't help being interested at this information, as he had been the one to find the creature - he pretended not to be, though, deciding he'd ask for more details when he wasn't so upset about Cho's stalking off.

They fought - Harry actually coming close to beating Levina this time - before it was time for him to leave.

---

The next day, as it was the first of November, was the day that the new laws were brought into effect. The students were each given a list of them in the morning, and a large poster with them written on were also pinned to each of the notice boards. Firstly was that Apparition - with a license, of course - was now legal for sixteen year olds, whereas previously it had only been for seventeen year olds.

Secondly, magic could be used out of school by sixteen year olds as well, rather than seventeen; these were the only law changes that affected the students, but there were several others noted. For example, whereas Auror Training usually took three years to complete, it now only took two, and the pass grades for BAT (Basic Auror Training) and AAA (Advanced Auror Achievement) E-Levels had been lowered ten percent, to seventy percent.

There were another few - Aurors, Magical Law Enforcement and Unspeakables had new rights and privileges, but these weren't specified on the sheets of parchment that were handed out.

"Its a pity we can't choose to try for a BAT at the end of the year," Ron sighed. "I mean, we can try for an E-Level in Spell Creation or Ward Creation, but we can't attempt a Basic Auror Training E-Level."

"Technically we could," Harry pointed out. "We'd just write to the Ministry, rather than going through the class and then being given the option." He took another orange and started to peel it. "You know, I think I could actually get used to this 'exercise and eat healthily' thing."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Great. By the time Quidditch season starts, you're going to be a flipping muscle-man."

"I very much doubt it," Hermione put her tuppence worth in. "Ron, isn't the Inter-House Chess Tournament starting on Tuesday? Ron nodded proudly.

"Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff to begin with," he announced. "Which means me against Luke Bowery. He's a seventh year - really tough to beat apparently, thinks about four moves ahead of his opponents."

Harry and Hermione wished him good luck before they finished their breakfast and set off for Charms.

The rest of the day was spent normally, doing lessons and homework; so was Friday (except that it was Basic Auror Training that day, when the Auror Captains had set up an obstacle course on the grounds, which Harry found to be like a mixture of the Tri-Wizard maze and lake rescue; basically they had to get past Beasts such as Red-caps, Hinkypunks, Doxies and Billywigs, at the end of which was a nasty surprise - they each had to fight their way past a ten-foot Acromantula which had been captured from the Forest).

"Now I know why the class was only open to fifth-years and above," Harry grumbled as he nursed a nasty cut, casting an anti-infection spell on it. "Are you all right, Ron?"

Ron was hovering half a foot off the ground - he'd had a nasty reaction to a Billywig sting (he must have been mildly allergic) - and he and Harry could only hope that it wasn't permanent. Thankfully, it wasn't; he finally reached the ground a few hours later, no worse for wear.

Harry had managed to get past the Acromantula quite easily, thanks to what he had memorised from '_Animals, Beasts and Creatures; The ABC Guide_', as well as a good aim for his Stunning spells directly at its many eyes, and only gaining the cut on his arm, and a few bruises from some quick dodging. Ron came out a little worse off; not only had he been floating thanks to the Billywig-Sting, the giant spider managed to get a nasty hit on his leg, gashing it open - Captain Marcella had to attend to it with some emergency healing spells.

Ron _had_ defeated the Acromantula in the end though, as had the majority of the others; only Padma Patil hadn't made it past, and was forced to send up sparks, as her Stunning spells weren't used against the eyes, and kept on being repelled. Everyone else made it through though, to their immense relief, and even Padma was being a good sport about herself being the only one not to complete the obstacle course.

---

On Saturday afternoon, Harry made his way up to the classroom that he had taken his Languages exam in, and entered to find Mr Whaits waiting for him at the desk. He would start his History OWL in less than five minutes, but he wasn't at all nervous - he'd done some more revision from the laptop last night, about the first and second world wars, the major Goblin rebellions, the witch-hunts - anything that he had thought might come up.

Mr Whaits seemed to be quite uneasy about Harry's complete lack of anxiety - he kept looking at him curiously, though he didn't question him, and the only thing he said when he gave him the exam booklet was 'Good luck'. The exam, which would take three hours, had no aural section; it was all essay questions and the like.

Harry found this even easier than the Magical Languages OWL. As there was no aural, he didn't have to worry about the Mermish body language, such as whether the pitch was too high, or if his eyes were closed enough - all he had to do was answer questions like; '_2b: Reakk the Ravaging was one of the most influential goblins of 1763. Say whether you agree or disagree, giving reasons for your answer. (14 marks)_'.

It took two and a quarter hours to complete the paper, so Harry spent the remaining fifteen minutes going through it and making sure he hadn't misspelled anything, or got the dates of various wars or the names of Wizards, goblins or witch-hunters muddled up with each other.

At four o'clock, Harry handed in his paper, and left to join Ron and Hermione in the library. The pair were studying over in a corner table, and Harry pulled another chair over from a nearby table.

"How did it go?" Ron asked, looking up from his Herbology homework. "Was it easy?"

"Pretty much," admitted Harry. "And you know I'd love to tell you the questions, but I can't."

Ron sighed. "Secrecy spells are so _annoying_. It's not like you're _going _to sell copies of the test to the school."

Harry looked at him pointedly. "I can think of some Slytherins who might. And besides, what's the difference between that, and telling your mates?"

Ron opened to his mouth to argue, and then realised he had a point. "Hm. You're right."

"When you're quite finished discussing the merits of cheating," Hermione sniped, "Perhaps you'd like to continue your homework?"

"It's Saturday, 'Mione!" groaned Ron. "It's only got to be in for Tuesday, I can leave it until tomorrow."

Hermione looked as though this were the most shocking thing she had ever heard. "_Tomorrow_? Last time you said, 'I'll leave it until tomorrow', you only remembered it a week later! Now, get to work."

Harry was quite amused at how Ron immediately scrambled to do her bidding at this small admonishment, and rose. "I'm going to go and practice my lion Animagus form," he told them. "Try and get it a bit further, you know."

Saying goodbye, he left the library and made his way to the classroom he usually used for his transformation. Closing the door behind him, he remembered that the lion figurine was still in his trunk in the dormitory, then decided it didn't matter. He shifted his body to as far as he could go, and then decided to attempt the skin under the fur. This was quite easy, and it took only a hint of magic to get his body to form the tough hide of a lion.

The next thing, he decided were the hind legs. This took much more magic and suggestion - even more than the arms had - as there were more clothes to fuse, and it felt quite strange to Harry for his knees to reverse direction without anything but a mild itching sensation. Although of course, it would be quite strange for your knees to suddenly reverse direction at all, he added mentally.

He had to stop there, to go to Spell Creation classes, where he would begin to learn how to manipulate base magic into the type of spell he wanted, but somehow, all he could think about was how he was going to manage to change his torso into that of a lion, complete with feline organs, veins, blood and muscle.

---

On Monday breaktime, Fred and George were proud to announce their passing Ministry tests and gaining Apparition licenses. "See, ickle Ronnie-kins?" Fred (or possibly George) said smugly, patting Ron on the back in a deliberately patronising manner. "You should have gone for a nice short course like Apparition, instead of a long, hugely useless one like Animagi training." Ron glared at them as they said this.

"How stupid of me to do so. Of course, the fact that Apparition classes are open only to sixth-years and above has nothing to do with it." The twins paused at this piece of information, before shrugging it off.

"Yes, Ronnie. You certainly _were_ stupid." said George (or maybe it was Fred) solemnly. "Still, we'll let you off this time. Brotherly ties and all. Just don't be so daft again, okay?" And with that, they strode off.

"I think they've gone more insane than ever," Ron said amazed, gazing after them. Harry nodded.

"Seems that way to me," he agreed. "It's your move, by the way."

Ron turned back, and moved his Rook, who complimented him on brilliant strategic planning. "Suck up," he grumbled. "Honestly, I can't make a single move without that damn Rook singing my praises."

Harry yawned as he surveyed the chessboard. "I really have to get some more Oxtamed. I'm down to ten pills."

Ron looked a little worried - Harry had given him a few of the tablets when he wanted to stay up to finish homework, and he knew how useful they were. "You could direct-order some," he suggested, "You know, get them delivered by owl-post, straight from the manufacturer."

Harry didn't know why he hadn't thought of this simple, yet brilliant, idea. "Ron, you're a genius!" he exclaimed, pleased. "The company's name is on the label of the bottle; I'll look it up later."

He did so when lessons were over, after Charms was finished but before Amulet Making; using this inspiration during the Amulet class, he drew up the beginning of plans for a bracelet to ward off tiredness, before returning to stitching the backing material of the herb-holder for the Divination focus.

Harry still hadn't got a chance to talk to Cho since the disastrous date the previous Wednesday; he didn't have lessons with her as she was in the year above, he had only spotted her in the corridors once, which was when she late for one of her lessons and she had either not noticed him or ignored him, and as he usually stayed in his dormitory to eat breakfast and lunch, he usually missed her when he came down to his friends. Along with all this, he didn't want to cause a scene at supper if she turned out to want to throw a plate at him or something.

---

It was Tuesday now however, and it had been nearly a week ago. Finally, after much egging on from - well, himself, as Ron couldn't care less and Hermione didn't want Cho to be with him as she thought the Ravenclaw was only after the fame, Harry plucked up the courage to question a few Ravenclaw girls as to where she was, which led him to Greenhouse Number One, where she was adding fertiliser to several pots of cheeping, blue saplings.

"Hi, Cho," Harry said tentatively, not closing the greenhouse door in case he needed a quick get-away. After all, this was a woman armed with a bag of Hippogriff manure, and possibly severely ped off with him.

She looked up when he entered, and glared daggers at him. "Yes?" she snapped frostily.

Harry resisted the urge to run screaming. "I'm really sorry about what happened last Wednesday..." he began.

---

"What _happened_ to you?" Hermione said in horror, as she surveyed the boy. Harry slapped a piece of Magi-Tape (_Guaranteed to heal minor cuts in less than two hours, or your money back!_) on his cheek, and scowled.

"Cho wasn't in the mood for apologies."

"Well, I guessed that much." Hermione tutted. "But what exactly did she _do_?"

"Threw a bunch of plant pots at me," Harry said gloomily. "A couple of them broke; luckily I'd left the door open, so I legged it before she reached the watering can."

Ron disguised a snort of laughter as a cough. "How tragic young love can be," he managed to choke out, holding firm against the hysterical laughter that threatened to burst out.

Harry glowered at him, communicating the fact that it was quite obvious he was trying not to laugh. "Anyway, after that, I'm guessing that I won't be going to the Holiday Ball with her. I mean, honestly," he complained, "it was hardly _my_ fault that I had to go see the headmaster, was it?"

"Well, technically it was," Hermione pointed out. "I mean, you _were_ the one who asked to do your History of Magic OWL early." Seeing Harry's expression of annoyance, she hastily added, "Though you're right, it wasn't your fault that Dumbledore had to speak to you just then."

Harry swept a bit of soil and a leaf off his shoulder, and starting picking the clumps of dirt out of his hair. "I'm going to have a shower," he announced to his not-very-sympathetic friends, still internally lamenting over Cho. "God only knows how I'm going to get this earth out of my robes without a decent cleaning spell."

Still grumbling, he left the Common Room and made his way to the fifth-year Gryffindor boys' showers, which were situated opposite their dormitory. Locking the door, he untied the white leather chain of his Y'Laagrondd necklace, and moved to put it on the shelf. Just as he did so, however, he noticed something on the back of it.

Wondering why he'd never noticed this before, Harry held it close and squinted at it; vertically down the goddess' back was some kind of engraved runic writing - he guessed it was Atlantean.

There were only two of the symbols, quite close together at the top of her spine, just below the neck; they looked like a mix of intricate Chinese or Japanese writing and Viking runes - the top one was like a circle, with four tiny lines coming out of the top, bottom and sides. The one below was much like an 'F', except that the top-left line joined on in a curve to the bottom left. Surprised that he'd never spotted this before, Harry made a mental note to ask Levina what it meant, before putting it on the shelf and returning to the thoughts of a shower.

---

Ron had managed to beat Luke Bowery, the Hufflepuff Chess Champion, for which there was a small party in Gryffindor Tower. "Ron won't be playing again for a long time," Geoffrey Gordon, the seventh-year who was in charge of organising the Gryffindor side of the Chess Tournament, explained to Harry. "It's Slytherins versus Ravenclaw next, and Ron'll go on against whoever wins. I think the next time Ron plays will be -" he checked a small notepad, "the final round on January the sixth, so he has a good while to prepare."

"Yeah, prepare to _win_!" crowed one of the twins, obviously a little tipsy thanks to the bottles of Ogden's Best Firewhisky that someone had managed to sneak in. The other twin hung back, obviously stuck between the urge to have a drink now he was of age, and the worry of ending up like his brother.

"Mum's going to kill them if she finds out they're drinking," Ron grinned. "Do you have a quill and some parchment on you, mate?"

"Ron," Harry said warningly, but not able to keep the smirk off his face. "That's extremely evil of you."

Ron rolled his eyes and mock-sighed. "I suppose I'll just have to keep it as black-mail material, then. Hold on, I'll go find Colin; he could get some great pictures of them..."

So, half an hour later, when the impromptu party had wound down, and the students were disappearing off to bed (and Ron had paid Colin to get some truly excellent photos of the twin they had worked out was George stumbling around with a large bottle and getting drunker by the minute, and Fred finally giving into his urges, drinking far too much, and ending up vomiting into a hastily transfigured bucket), Harry himself made his way to the dormitory to sleep off some of the Butterbeer that he had finally given in to. He had been off it for a while, unsure whether Levina would approve, but finally decided that just the once wouldn't matter.

As he passed by the dormitory window, Harry could almost have sworn he saw the tiny glimmer of a camp-fire far off within the Forbidden Forest. Shaking his head to try and free himself of the tired hallucinations he was getting from the lack of sleep tonight, he thought nothing more of it.


	15. Chapter 15: Stonehandle

Chapter 15: Stonehandle 

---

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?" - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

---

Wednesday morning came to pass, and by the time Harry had eaten the breakfast that Cobbit had brought up for him, he felt quite a bit better about beaten around the head by Cho Chang with flower pots. Deciding to skip his morning run for now, and do it at lunch, he headed downstairs to the Great Hall.

As he entered, Hermione held up a letter, and he moved across to take it. "From the Ministry?"

"It just came with the post-owls a few minutes ago. Your History OWL results," Hermione said informatively. "I promise not to scream this time, so it's okay for you to show them to me."

Harry grinned, and slit the envelope open. "Okay... Dear Mr. H. J. Potter, blah, blah, blah... exam mark - oh, you're not going to believe this," he said, rather smugly. "Guess."

Ron half-closed his eyes and held his hands to the sides of his head. "I'm Seeing a vision - okay, I think it's... just less than your Language score?"

"Cold," sang Harry triumphantly.

"Ah yes, sometimes I interpret the Sight wrongly," Ron said immediately. "I See... just over your score?"

"Getting warmer..."

"A hundred percent," Hermione guessed.

"Er - not that much, unfortunately, but very close."

"Oh, just give it here," Hermione reproached, snatching the letter before Ron could make another estimate. She scanned through it, looking delighted. "Harry, I would say I was pleasantly surprised - but I'm surprised at all." She held up the parchment. "_Ninety-eight percent_, Harry! Another '_Outstanding_' mark!"

Harry put his hands behind his head and leaned back as if lounging in a chair, rather than balancing precariously on a bench. "I'm just too good, sometimes."

Ron put on a face of feigned-terror. "Forget becoming 'Mione, you're turning into Malfoy."

"Ron!" scolded Hermione, though she still looked pleased. "Well, Harry, are you planning to take any more?"

"No way!" said Harry defiantly. "Languages and History is enough for now; people are just thinking I'm some kind of genius - I don't want to suddenly get a dozen OWLs before the usual time, and have everyone start getting suspicious of whether I'm cheating or something. I mean, what if they stuck me under Veritaserum and asked me how I was learning everything? 'Oh, well I'm actually using magical tubes from Atlantis to help me remember Grindelwald's middle name. Does that count as cheating, sir?'"

Ron sniggered, and Hermione looked amused. "Yes; I suppose that _could_ be bad," she understated.

They continued on to a conversation about the History OWL, before Ron and Hermione actually had to _go_ to History. Harry leisurely finished off a slice of watermelon that he had taken from one of the bowls of fruit, and decided that as he now had an hour to do whatever he pleased, he would do the exercise that he had previously planned to skip - he had now extended his usual jog to fifteen minutes rather than ten.

After that, he finished some Charms homework that he had been meaning to do, before using the rod to research information on several hundred potions. Even with this amount inside it, it still wasn't full, and remembering the notes to Techno-Magic - '_There is no Dark or Light magic_' - he decided to use much of the remaining space for methods for creating poisons and other Dark potions, as well as their antidotes.

He deliberately left a little bit of space for Divination, as he still was hardly an expert on the subject; to finish off, he downloaded information on the zodiac, the star and moon signs, which finished the rod off.

Taking it out of the slot, Harry prepared himself for the headache to come, grasped it in both hands, and let his mind take in the thirty-six thousand, seven-hundred and twenty pages. The information came, as did the words and images contained within the rod; not as bad as the last time he had tried to 'read' a full rod, but still enough to make his head feel as if someone had put a metal bucket over it, and was repeatedly banging the bucket with a hammer.

Wincing at the splitting, screaming pain, Harry hid the laptop and rod in the trunk, and scrambled over to the bed, where he threw himself down and covered his head with a pillow, which helped somewhat. "Bloody Boy-Who-Lived, Phoenix, Enchanter, and 'genius'," he mumbled irritably, "Can't get rid of a flipping headache though."

---

By break-time, when Ron returned to the dormitory from History, the pain was almost completely gone, and reappeared only as a twinge at fast movements or loud noises. Harry carefully walked down the spiral staircase to the Common Room, and slowly sat on one of the couches, cautious about knocking his head and getting a repeat.

Hermione was already seated at one of the chairs, perusing her Conjuration book, and looked up when Harry entered. "The class wanted to know why you weren't in History, so I had to tell them," she informed him. "Was that okay with you?" Harry nodded in reply - not too much, though.

Hermione sighed. "Oh, honestly. You've memorised the whole Charms textbook, but you still haven't grasped a spell to get rid of headaches?" she stated, recognising the symptoms from the last time. She whipped out her wand, muttered a spell, and a moment later, Harry's head was fine.

"Well, the Charms textbook didn't have any spells to get rid of headaches in it," Harry argued. "Thanks, though." he added. "You've just saved my sanity."

Ron looked surprised. "I thought you'd lost that ages ago?"

---

Training that night didn't involve any fighting at all, much to Harry's disappointment; he quite looked forwards to the sword-fights they had, even though he always ended up much worse for wear by the end, and still had yet to win a single time. Instead, he and Levina went over the different muscles in the body, and how he could exercise each one of them - "Just a jog each morning won't be enough," Levina instructed him sternly, as though he had been disobeying a direct order. "Do a few push-ups; exercise your arm muscles, especially your biceps, as well as your legs - you want power behind your sword, and endurance, and if you can fight on your feet for hours, but you can't hold a sword for more than one hour, what good is it to you?"

Although Harry admitted she was right, he didn't much like it. "Well, as long as you do it, I don't care whether you like it or not." Levina told him when he voiced these thoughts. "It's good to have a routine, as well, so it can help in that respect as well. I mean, look at yourself so far! I wouldn't even recognise you as the boy I first started to train." She was of course, exaggerating - but as Harry stopped by the mirror in the shower-room once he'd returned to Gryffindor Tower, he realised that actually she wasn't elaborating very much.

The changes had been so gradual that he had barely noticed them, but the change in diet and exercise a few weeks ago had sped the process up even more. He was no longer skinny, but he was nowhere near fat; although he certainly wasn't a muscle-bound Arnold Schwarzenagger with a bulging six-pack (that would have looked quite revolting on him, anyway, he thought), he had well-developed muscles hidden under his sleeves, and his legs too were - though by no means muscular - in much better shape than the average teenage boy's.

His stomach was, as said before, not skinny nor fat; the muscle there was starting to develop too, thanks to a combination of the food, jogging and the dodges and lunges in sword-fighting, and no longer looked like it belonged to a scrawny, half-starved greyhound.

Harry realised why Cho had asked him out a while ago; as she must have already had her eye on him, she had noticed his transformation; his lack of glasses, his hair that was not _too_ wild - now it was springing up just enough that it looked deliberate and actually rather cool, rather than 'help, I'm part Medusa'.

His robes hid much of his new build, so it didn't look as though anyone would spot it on a casual glance; he could only imagine how he would be at the end of fifth-year, when he would have more training, and Quidditch practice to go along with it. Amazed that he hadn't spotted all this before - it was his own body, for goodness sake! - Harry finished gazing into the mirror, and returned to the dormitory for bed.

---

At breakfast on Friday, Harry received last month's Gringotts statement; he now had six-million, three-hundred and ninety-one thousand, three-hundred and twenty-eight Galleons; he worked this out to be around fifteen-million, nine-hundred and seventy-eight thousand, three-hundred and twenty-one pounds.

"It's a pity they round down the Sickles and Knuts," Ron sighed wistfully, setting his goblet of Pumpkin Juice down, "Or you'd probably have even more interest each month."

"As if I don't have enough money to be getting on with," Harry scoffed, and remembered his properties. He had spent some time fitting each of the keys in his trunk onto the enchanted keyring he had bought in the suspiciously Dark-looking shop in Hogsmeade a while ago, and now wondered exactly what they looked like.

His musings were interrupted by Hermione's announcement that they had better get to Transfiguration, to which Ron replied with a moan, and slowly eased himself up. "Maybe _I _should have taken my OWLs early," he groaned as they started out the Hall and down the corridor. "Then I'd only have an hour of lessons on Fridays, too."

"Well, you probably wouldn't pass them," Hermione pointed out, "After all, you haven't read all the rods that Harry has, so you have nowhere near the knowledge of the subjects."

Ron argued that it wasn't the case; but it was certainly true that when Professor McGonagall asked the class what types of wood were best transfigured into water, Harry and Hermione knew the answer, though he didn't.

---

Harry didn't have any lessons after break - it would normally have been double History, and after lunch, double Languages - so instead, he found himself researching Astronomy and after that, Muggle biology. He spent the rest of what would have been the two-hour History lesson in making a website for his own amusement, and to practice the various coding that he had learned. When lunch-time came, and Dobby appeared in the dormitory carrying a tray of food for him, he realised that he still had no idea what he actually wanted it to be for, so he randomly picked a topic - he decided on Dark creatures - and quickly changed the main page to match the subject.

Ron came up a little while later to grab his Winter cloak; it had now started to snow heavily, and it was nearly at below freezing, though the castle's charms and the fires were keeping indoors at an even, warm temperature - before leaving again. Harry wasn't entirely sure why he wanted his Winter cloak, but knew when he looked out of the window; the students had a new game, as he saw that they were throwing snowballs at the giant squid, who whipped its tentacles out of the water and hit them back towards them.

Amused by this bizarre entertainment, Harry returned to the laptop, and started making a list of all the different creatures he could write about. He wouldn't be able to put the site up on the Internet; after all, Muggles could stumble across it there; but it was still a pleasant diversion, to feel that he was making something interesting.

By the end of lunch-time, Harry had written everything he knew about Vampires (twenty-eight pages worth) and Erklings (seventeen pages worth), though he still had to sort out the layout, menus, graphics and so on. Feeling exceptionally proud of himself, Harry inserted the JavaScript title screen onto the main page - the laptop was exceptionally fast, thankfully, and saved the files before shutting the laptop down.

He'd had enough of that for one day - what to do now... as he put the computer back into the trunk, though, he spotted the keyhole to the other compartment, and knew how to spend the rest of the time. Why not go through the deeds to the houses? Harry turned the key in the third compartment, and pulled out about twenty of the top ones.

Counting through, he saw that he'd taken exactly eighteen, and decided that would be enough for now. Wizarding deeds, he saw, were quite different to Muggle ones; not only did they have the name of the owner and so on, but they also had (he was glad to see) brief descriptions of the buildings. Unfortunately, they didn't have the photograph which toured around, like the estate agents had in Hogsmeade, but it was enough.

The first one Harry looked at was to the Potter Estate, which he read was a manor in Wales. It had five bedrooms, eight acres, and stables that would hold ten horses; it sounded to Harry like the Potter version of Malfoy Manor, although he had no idea whether the Malfoys' home was larger or smaller.

The second was a studio apartment in Manhattan, with three bedrooms, and the third was a cottage in England with just the two bedrooms, though it included two acres of woodland. There was also, to his utter disbelief, larger places than even the Potter Estate; the fourth was named Snowcap, and was what sounded like a wooden ranch in Switzerland, which had seven rooms and nine acres of grounds.

Skipping past an apartment in Tokyo, Harry paused again at 'The Golden Palace'. Unfortunately, it wasn't actually a _real_ palace, but a large hotel in Las Vegas, which not only had its own restaurant, casino and three pools, but also one-hundred and eight rooms and suites for customers. Harry only wished that there were pictures on the deeds, so that he could know what these buildings actually _looked_ like.

'_First thing I'm going to do after Hogwarts is buy a limousine_,' Harry grinned. '_Or a Rolls Royce - Hell, why not both? It's not as though I've got to watch my budget._' He snapped out of his fantasies involving champagne, cars, a motorbike - well, Sirius had one! - and bodyguards, and returned to reading some more of the deeds.

There was a huge 'house' in Kenya - though it sounded more like a mansion, as it had stables for twenty-five horse, covered twenty-one acres of excellent hunting grounds (though Harry felt quite sick at the thought of actually using it for hunting) and eight bedrooms. The final one he decided to check was a villa in the South of France, called Somer Vert; it included four acres and four bedrooms, as well as a pool.

Harry replaced the papers back in the trunk, and locked the compartment closed. There was still an hour and a half to go until lessons finished; reading a few papers had hardly taken any time, after all. To pass the time, he researched sword-making on the laptop - unfortunately it only contained information on normal and enchanted swords, rather than the ones that could be specialised for a soul, like Levina had mentioned. It was an interesting thought; just how many more facts were missing from the computer?

Certainly, there were less missing than there were the previous day; Levina had uploaded some new information on fighting with halberds, and Harry was quick to insert this into the rod along with the sword-making information. Ajax (who had reverted back into his 'I don't like human speech, so I won't do it if it isn't necessary' mentality) watched him from across the room, occasionally pecking at a bag of owl pellets that Dean had given him before lessons to shut him up. Harry wasn't sure whether they were okay for him to eat, but he seemed to like them.

---

When lessons ended at three thirty, the snow was still falling at the same rate. The only relief for Harry was that as it wasn't Quidditch season, he wouldn't be missing practices - though he didn't much like the idea of a morning jog in the two-foot-deep layers of snow, and was desperately hoping that it would have melted by tomorrow.

Unfortunately for Harry, the snow _hadn't_ melted by the next morning, and though yesterday evening's BAT lesson had only been going through one of the previous years' BAT E-Level papers to show what kind of questions would come up if they were to attempt the E-Level, he still felt as though every inch of him was aching.

Steeling himself against the fact that he was going to get severely wet shoes, Harry cast a warming spell, grabbed his cloak, and wished that he could have breakfast beforehand, rather than afterwards.

He was right; he did get soaked, but a spell from '_Enchantments for the Journeyman_' took care of that with a handy drying spell. As he tramped back indoors, shaking the slush from his dragonhide boots (after all, he was hardly going to go off in school shoes in _that_ weather!), he realised he was trailing a puddle of melting snow behind him, and used the drying spell on his clothes as well, before fleeing to the Great Hall before Filch came.

"All right?" he greeted Ron and Hermione, slipping into place beside them at the table.

Hermione held up a parcel. "From Banbridge Pharmaceuticals," she told him. "Your Oxtamed."

Remembering the order he'd placed a few days ago, Harry thanked her and opened it. There were five of the grey bottles inside; two-hundred and fifty pills in total. "That should keep me going for about a week," he joked. "Seriously, it'll probably take me a good few months to finish all these off."

"Well, that pack of fifty didn't last you very long," Hermione pointed out, impaling some innocent bacon on the end of her fork. "Anyway, I don't suppose you've heard what's happening in two months time? Ron would be only too happy to explain, I'm sure," she added sarcastically, but Ron took over immediately.

"On Wednesday the seventeenth of January," he began, and Harry began to get a little nervous. Ron _never_ remembered dates - except for his own birthday, Quidditch games, and holidays. "The most exciting event of the year - well, next year, anyway - will occur." Ron raised his hands as if waiting for a dramatic silence to befall all of the students. "On that day," he completed, "the Elemental Riders will be released into the market."

Harry's eyes widened. "The _Elemental Riders_! Ron, that's amazing! What the Hell is an Elemental Rider?"

Ron scowled. "No need to be sarcastic, I was just about to explain." He pulled the morning copy of the Daily Prophet up from where it was sitting on the bench beside him. "Look at _this_," he said impressively, holding it out.

Harry took it and unfolded it, beginning to read. At one side of the front cover, there was a large photo of some jostling photographers, trying to get a good snapshot of the main focus of the picture; a pair of men proudly displaying a huge, silver shield. The caption underneath it read, '_Lucas Ellerby and John Spudmore - winners of the annual Best Broom Award, bestowed by the International Quidditch League for their Elemental Riders_'.

Intrigued, Harry looked at the main story.

**_Ellerby and Spudmore Rumours Verified! _**

_For a while now, rumours have been circulating and theories were abound about the widely reputed 'super-broom' being tested just off the coast of England. In a press conference late yesterday evening, these rumours were found to be true, ascertained by none other than Ellerby and Spudmore themselves. _

_These two owners have been awarded the Best Broom Award, the highest recognition a broomstick can achieve, for the up-until-now, top-secret 'Elemental Riders' series. Only now has the knowledge of these top racers been make accessible to the public; but only thirteen Elemental Riders will also be made unrestricted. _

_Yes, only thirteen of these 'super-brooms' have been created, each one based on one of the elements that were supposedly able to be controlled; Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Light, Darkness, Music, Magic, Plants, Void, Celestial, Lightning and Weather. The design of these highly advanced brooms, which have been the company's best-kept secret for the four years they have been planned, are not being revealed at all. _

_The brooms themselves, however, and their names and appearances, will be revealed on Wednesday the seventeenth of January, when they will be displayed at the British Wizarding Museum in London, and made available to prospective buyers, who will be coming from all over the world. _

_They're certainly not cheap - one thousand, four-hundred Galleons is the starting price, though if there are multiple buyers, they will be auctioned off to the highest bidder - but Ellerby and Spudmore insists that none of them will ever be created again, which means that these are a once-in-a-lifetime offer. _

_The exact specifications of the brooms - speeds, materials, charms and limitations - are all being kept secret until the day of their release, but as they have not only won the Best Broom Award, but also the Innova Citation for the most original design, it's obvious that these aren't just your everyday Shooting Stars. _

_(For a history of the Ellerby and Spudmore company, turn to page three). _

_Corrie Spondant_

"One word, mate," said Ron bluntly. "_Cool_."

"You took the word right out of my mouth," Harry laughed in amusement, still in awe at the sound of the Elemental Riders. "That would be about... three thousand, five-hundred pounds, right?"

Hermione scoffed. "Oh, honestly. Why would anyone pay that much for a broomstick?" She backed down under the boys' combined glares. "Actually, I think I'll be quiet now."

"Definitely worth it," Ron continued, as though nothing had happened. "I mean, _everyone's_ going to be at the Museum now; the captain of every team in America and Europe, the press, the celebrities, the rich, the politicians; I mean, this isn't going to be a sale, it's going to be the '_Who's Who_' list of the world."

"And of course, everyone will want one," Harry added, "so they'll all go to auction, and end up selling for about ten-thousand Galleons after everyone's finished bidding."

"Yeah."

"Yep."

"Uh huh."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"So, are you going to see if you can get away from school?"

"What else could I do?"

---

By Thursday lunch-time, the snow had first melted, then been replaced by another soft, white shower from above. Harry had researched some fighting, continued his lessons, read some more property deeds, and was now in the middle of researching potions for Dark creatures for his website.

He'd already uploaded the Wolfsbane potion for Werewolves, and was now looking for more; scanning down the page that 'Search' had come up with, he spotted a likely one - Canusabeo. He clicked on the link, and was rewarded with a summary of the potions effects, and the methods and ingredients to make it.

It was a complicated one, Harry saw at first glance. It would take at least two months to brew correctly, and it was highly sensitive; one ingredient at the wrong time, and it would have to be started from scratch. Going back to the top of the page, Harry checked the summary, and froze.

This was a potion that would cure lycanthropy.

This was a potion that supposedly didn't exist.

This was a potion that was _right in front of Harry_.

"Holy - " Harry cut himself off, slipped the rod into the laptop, and quickly inserted the potion information onto it. He 'read' through it carefully after he'd used it; it would take sixty-six days to brew, and the ingredients were hardly easy to find, or cheap. Was there some reason it wasn't used, Harry wondered; had it been lost? Was one of its main components extinct? Did it, for some reason, not work anymore?

Planning to think about that later, Harry returned to his information sifting. It would apparently have no effect on the Werewolf until the next full-moon, which was when the Werewolf would be in slight pain for a few minutes, before the potion would start attacking the appearing wolf genes and destroying them permanently.

Harry checked the method. He couldn't start it now, as the holidays began in a month, and he wouldn't be able to take it to Sweden with him - but he could make it in January, and would be finished before the term ended. Plus, it would take a while for him to gather the ingredients, anyway.

When he had made it, he could send it to St. Mungoes; they could test it to see if it worked, and wasn't just a sham, and then - Harry could barely believe this - the Werewolf Registration Act would be completely useless, because there wouldn't _be_ any Werewolves. In fact, as lycanthropy could only be passed by a bite and hereditary genes (which would be destroyed anyway), it would completely eliminate the entire 'disease'.

Shutting down the laptop and putting it back in the trunk, Harry wondered about the effects of this. It meant that Remus Lupin could return to his teaching job - or any one he liked, actually; it meant that the years of Werewolf prejudice could just disappear; it meant that everyone infected co-

"Harry? Lessons are going to start in a minute." Ron said suddenly, making Harry jump. He spun around to see that Ron was poking his head into the room. "Hermione wanted me to remind you, in case you'd lost track of the time - look, you haven't even eaten your lunch..."

Harry noticed for the first time, the plate of uneaten sweetcorn and various other so-called healthy food, that Dobby had brought up. "Oh, yeah. Never mind," he said, grabbing his bag and pushing the books he needed into it. "I'm not that hungry to be honest; I was just saving the livelihood of several thousand Wizards around the world."

Ron rolled his eyes. "No need to be sarcastic; I was just stating a fact."

"So was I." Harry replied frankly. "I've just discovered a cure for lycanthropy. Anyway, what lesson's next?"

---

When Divination had ended, and after Potions, Harry stayed behind at the end of class. "Professor Snape?"

The Potions Master scowled at him, and continued labelling his vials and bottles of ingredients. "What, Potter?"

Harry pulled out the parchment that he had written the ingredients and method for the potion on during the lesson. "I was just wondering, sir, if any of these ingredients are - well, extinct, or hard to find, or expensive."

Snape scanned down the list. "Human blood? What on earth are you planning to make, Potter?"

Harry didn't know exactly what to say, so he muttered, "It's a cure I read about." Snape sneered at him.

"Oh? And you have some kind of a bizarre disease that you have to get rid of urgently - and instead of going to St. Mungoes, you have to make the antidote yourself? One that includes not only human blood, but -" He pulled the parchment away and peered at it. "A wolf's claw? Holy water? A blessed thistle? Melted silver? Potter, what the _Hell_ is all this meant to be for?"

"Never mind, I just wanted to know. Sorry for wasting your time," Harry said quickly, knowing it had been a mistake to show it the Potions professor. He made to snatch it back, but the man pulled it further away.

"Potter, unless you tell me what this is for, _right now_, I'm going to take so many points away from Gryffindor that you're going to be in the negatives for the next five years. Got it?"

Harry hesitated, before giving up and muttering, "It's a potion I've been working on for a while. It's meant to cure lycanthropy."

Snape stared at him. "You? Design a potion?"

Harry shrugged. He wasn't sure if Snape believed him yet, so it was probably a good idea not to say anything.

The professor also remained speechless, and instead looked through the ingredients again, frowning. It was quite a long list, but he was experienced in reading lists of potion components, and was done quite quickly. After that, he scanned down the method that was written below. That took a few minutes, and when he was done, he looked at Harry. "This would take about seventy days to complete." he stated emotionlessly.

"Sixty-six, to be exact," Harry corrected. "So... is everything okay, then? I mean, the ingredients are all okay?"

The man pushed aside the bottles he had been marking, and sat down to read through the parchment again, more carefully. "None of these are extinct, but I don't know where you're going to be able to find some of these things. The ingredients seem... the right _type_ for such a spell - though of course, until you test it, you don't know whether it's going to blow up in your face, or just not do anything at all. You've got an example of wolf DNA in the claw, human DNA in the blood; silver, holy items - blessed thistles are quite common in purification and hex-breaking spells, but the holy water would amplify that to make it far more powerful - then the rest of the herbs and ingredients should be quite easy to find; those are the only ones you should have trouble with.

"The method - apart from taking a long time to make, I'm sure you could find a way to cut it down somewhat, with a bit of research - looks like a combination of a healing, transfiguring and curse-breaking potion; that's the right sort of thing that should be done. If there _was_ a potion to cure lycanthropy, I'm sure this would be what it was like - it might need a bit of tweaking, though, to shorten the length of time needed."

He looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should make this for you instead? As a Potions Master, I'd be more likely to get the timing right, and so on. And of course, I could analyse any changes that needed to be made, and see whether you've got it completely wrong."

Harry nodded furiously. "Would you?" he said excitedly. "I mean, is there any way I could help?"

Snape pulled a small sheet of parchment over, and started copying a few notes onto it from the list that Harry had given him. "See if you can hold of these," he ordered, giving it to the boy. "I'll take care of the rest of them."

Harry read the notes. He was, apparently, meant to gain possession of several herbs, and several stones of howlite, malachite, and turritella agate. They could quite easily be procured in Hogsmeade, in the gift shop, though he wasn't sure where he was going to get the herbs, now the apothecary had been closed down - he had no idea when it was going to reopen. "When do I have to get them by?"

Snape was making notes down the method. "I'll start next Saturday, so you have a week and a day."

Harry thanked him, slipped the parchment inside his robes pocket, and then sped out to find Ron and Hermione.

---

The pair were waiting for him in the library, and listened in titillation as Harry explained how his tutor had given him a rod to use which contained the cure for lycanthropy - after all, he still had to keep Techno-Magic secret.

"You could make millions with that!" Ron said in wonder. "I mean, all over the world, there's about five or six-thousand Werewolves; let's say they each paid a thousand Galleons for some of the potion, you'd be five or six million Galleons richer! But let's say you also managed to tweak it to some of the rarer forms of involuntary changes - like the Wererats of South America or the Werejaguars from Africa - that's another couple of thousand for each of those, so that's another two million! Eight million Galleons from selling a potion that existed anyway!"

Hermione looked shocked. "Harry, you're not going to _sell_ it, are you?"

"No way," Harry denied vehemently. "If it _does_ still work, I'll make sure all the magical hospitals give it out free when someone's been bitten, rather than send out advertisements as the only supplier. I mean, now Ron's pointed out the 'eight million Galleons' thing, I'm a bit tempted; but it's not as though I need the money, or that I even worked hard to invent the potion. In fact, all I did was show it to Snape, and I'm not even _making_ it!"

Ron shrugged. "Well, it was worth a try. Hey!" he said brightly, "If it works, we'll be able to get Lupin back as Defence teacher next year!"

"Ron, we've still got Professor Figg." Hermione pointed out. "Do you think she's going to turn out to be a Death Eater or something before seventh-year?"

Harry zoned the approaching argument out, and instead mentally started designing the graphics for the website.

---

The next Tuesday was a huge milestone for Harry; that was the day he managed to complete his lion Animagus form. It stood about a hundred and eight centimetres tall at the shoulders, and was entirely covered in glossy, coal dark fur, with a thick, jet black mane. Its eyes, Harry discovered when McGonagall transfigured a plant into a large mirror, were not the normal amber ones of a lion; just like his fur was the normal, tawny-gold coat.

Instead they were a gleaming silver colour, even brighter against his ebony hair, and his pupils were pure black.

Hermione was quite a way through her transformation; she could now cover herself entirely in the elegant swan feather, elongate her neck, and grow a long, feathered tail; she was now working on getting her arms into proper wings, and hollowing out the bones to make them light.

Ron was only a little way behind her; he had managed to grow a wolf's tail, ears, front paws and legs, and was planning on growing fur and wolf hide over the rest of himself, now. The rest of the class were progressing well; Cho Chang, Harry noticed, had grown a cat's eyes, tail, whiskers, and her arms and legs had elongated and shifted until they looked completely different from a Human's.

"This calls for a celebration," Ron announced as they sat around the table in the Three Broomsticks after the lesson, congratulating Harry. He held up his mug of Butterbeer. "To us!"

Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes, but followed up the toast, holding their drinks of Butterbeer (actually in Harry's case, Pumpkin Juice) to meet his. "You know, it's only nine days until the holidays begin, seven days after that until Hagrid's wedding, and two more days until we go to Sweden?" Harry informed them in wonderment. "I mean, just think how quickly this term's flown by."

Hermione nodded. "I know what you mean. Of course, it's not as though it _could_ drag by - not with murders, daemons, Animagi and Aurors to keep us all busy. But how's this for a thought instead - less than two and a half years from now, we'll be going out into the big, wide world, as fully-trained Wizards and Witches - as adults."

There was a moment of silence as the trio considered this information.

"We should make some kind of an oath," said Ron suddenly. "I mean, Harry and I've been friends since the train ride in our first year, and Hermione, you joined us that year as well - and we've all done so much together. We should have something like a promise to each other."

Hermione mused over that idea. "Ron, you're right. Something that we can all stick to. Harry?"

"It's a good idea; I'm in, if you two are," Harry said seriously.

Hermione smiled. "Right. Then we're all agreed. Let's make a Wizard's Oath - a vow to always look out for each other, right to the end of our lives. We may have our arguments or the occasional falling out, but not for long, and we'll always make up. We'll help each other if we need help, and in summary - we'll always be friends, the inseparable Gryffindor Trio. How about it?" she asked triumphantly, leaning back in an exalted manner.

"Done!" said Ron immediately, and Harry followed up with the same enthusiasm. "So, I'll correct the toast then," he added, holding up his mug. "To us - the undefeatable, inexhaustible, everlasting Gryffindor Trio!"

The others held up their drinks again, grinning widely. "I think we're getting a little too into this," Harry joked. "So then; five years from now, what are we going to be doing? Ron?"

Ron became serious again, and took a sip of his drink as he pondered this question. "I think," he finally decided, "that I'd _like_ to be playing Keeper for the Chudley Cannons - be the one to bring back a repeat of their glory days. Have a nice big house, get my Apparition license, play for England. No chance, but I can dream."

"Don't say that," Harry insisted as he finished, "If you believe you can do it, you're never going to able to. I think that's a very likely future for you actually; though I think it would take you a bit longer to play for England. Hermione, where are you going to be in five years?"

The girl had, surprisingly, to think about this. "I really don't know," she admitted. "I have so many ideas, I'm not sure which one I'll go with in the long-term. But right now, I can see myself in the future as..." She poured some more drink from the half-full bottle into her mug, "A teacher." she decided, surprising the pair even more. "The Arithmancy teacher, perhaps. Just finished the Arithmancy and Teaching E-Levels; with a small house somewhere in Muggle London. though that would probably be too expensive to be realistic, and a Crup. Running S.P.E.W in my spare time." she added. "That would be great. But what about you?"

Harry shrugged. "Still have no idea. I mean, it's like I said ages ago - I don't want to be an Auror, because I've had enough of fighting Dark Wizards already; I don't want to be Magical Law Enforcer, because I wouldn't want to run around after petty criminals or underage-Magic; I wouldn't want to be a Quidditch player because I'd rather play for fun than for a professional team... I have no idea."

"Well, just because those are what everyone expects you to want doesn't mean they're the only ones you should think about," Hermione said smartly. "Forget what you _don't_ want to do; where _do_ you want to be in five years?"

Harry puzzled over this. "Well," he said slowly, "I'd like to take a year after school to travel around, see more of the world; that sort of thing. But after that, I don't know." He remembered Levina's old Atlantean job suddenly, and how quickly he had learned the languages. "Perhaps some kind of an ambassador," he suggested.

Hermione looked impressed. "Harry that's great! In the Department of International Magical Co-operation, Ambassadors are practically the highest job. And they get a high rate of pay, as well; over forty-eight thousand Galleons every year, as well as all their travel being paid for."

"If you do become an Ambassador, make sure you're in an Embassy in a nice country, instead of the Middle-East, though," Ron added with a small smirk. "Wouldn't want war to break out around you, would you?"

Harry gave him a mock-glare. "I only just thought of it, anyway. I'll probably change my mind by tomorrow."

The trio finished their drinks, still talking about their plans for the future, and headed back to the castle.

---

Two days later, at breakfast, another package arrived for Harry - this time, it was the herbs that were needed for the Canusabeo potion, as the apothecary (or so the sign on the window said) was still for sale. Harry had ordered them from Banbridge Pharmaceuticals a few days ago, and had bought the stones that were needed in the gift shop at Hogsmeade the previous Tuesday.

Harry passed the ingredients on to Snape in the Potions lesson that day, curious as to whether the potion would actually work. He didn't query him on this, though - he had been lucky enough to escape without points being taken from him for the entire lesson, and he wasn't about to spoil that now.

Gryffindor was still close behind Ravenclaw in the House Cup; just twenty-five points behind, which meant that Hermione and the sixth and seventh year prefects were bustling around the Tower snapping at anyone who was discussing a prank or joke that might lose them points. "It's not as though we're in the final term," complained many, but the prefects weren't accepting that excuse; "Slytherin is only thirty points behind us!" Hermione snapped at one offending third-year. "Every point we gain is an advantage, and every point we lose is a disadvantage!"

She returned to the others looking quite exasperated. "I swear, we were never like that," she sniffed, seating herself in one of the armchairs besides Ron and Harry, who were making an Exploding Snap card pyramid.

"No," said Harry, not looking up. "We just ran off to fight trolls, handle illegal dragons and steal Hippogriffs from the Ministry, but we never argued with a Prefect."

"Except for Percy," Ron added immediately, not looking up either. "But he doesn't count, because anyone in their right mind would argue with him. Plus, we were under Polyjuice at the time."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, honestly. I think you've made your points."

Harry couldn't reply, because at that moment the pyramid blew up, and he and Ron were forced to duck before they lost their eyebrows.

---

On Saturday morning, Harry received not only his Animagus license, which meant that he could now legally change into his black lion form whenever he wanted, but also information from the Daily Prophet; the latest article stated that the British Wizarding Museum would be closed on the evening of the Elemental Riders' release, only open to prospective buyers. It would open at five o'clock, and - though it was planned to end at eight - if there were multiple bidders (which there would certainly be), it had a chance of continuing long into the night.

Wondering whether he could gain permission from Dumbledore - and Levina, as his training was that night - to go to London, Harry managed to track down Professor McGonagall and ask whether he could be allowed. The teacher looked as though she thought it would be a definite _no_. "After all, it's only open to 'prospective buyers', it says," she pointed out, reading through the paper that Harry showed her.

"I _do_ want to buy one." Harry replied honestly.

McGonagall looked a little surprised by this. "Well, they're very expensive," she said quickly, as though looking for a reason to stop him going. "The starting price is nearly a thousand and a half Galleons."

"That's all right," said Harry without really thinking, "I've got over six-million, anyway."

The professor gawked at him.

Three minutes of silence later, Harry started to become quite uncomfortable with the fact that she still wasn't blinking, and said carefully, "So... do you think I'd be allowed to go? I mean, it would be a big help for Quidditch."

"I'll see what I can do, Potter," the woman wheezed. "Excuse me, I must go." She drifted off in a dazed manner, still clutching the Daily Prophet.

"Well, that went well," Harry said brightly, and turned back to head up to Gryffindor Tower, where he looked up the British Wizarding Museum on the laptop, managing to find the ground plans, and memorising the layout.

It seemed that the presentation of the brooms would take place in a large hall-like area that was situated on the second floor; the bidding, he guessed, would take place in of the four conference rooms on the same storey. The only really surprising thing about the plans, Harry discovered, was that the building was actually, much like the Leaky Cauldron, between Diagon Alley and Muggle London; he guessed that it must be invisible to Muggles.

Alert for footsteps on the stairs, he read some more about the Museum and the artefacts within, before adding some information to his website, and shutting the laptop down.

---

Harry managed to get permission to skip the training on the night of the release, so it all came down to what Dumbledore had to say about it - and much to Harry's joy, the answer came the following morning that he would be allowed to go, as long as he was accompanied by a teacher in case of Death Eater attacks. 'Professor Carnaena' quickly volunteered, just managing to get the position before Figg offered her services as his bodyguard.

By Tuesday evening, the reports had come back that Ravenclaw had won the Chess Tournament against Slytherin, and would be up against Gryffindor in the finals. The Gryffindors who didn't have any interest in chess, however, were more concerned about the Holiday Ball the next day.

The trio were more affected than most, because none of them had dates. While Harry mourned the fact that he should have asked someone else to go to the Ball with him as soon as Cho threw the pots at him, Hermione wondered why she should even bother, and Ron bemoaned that even Ginny had a date - Ivan Gregor had asked her out again, though Ron swore passionately that it would never last.

"Well, of course it wouldn't." Dean said as he passed. "He's going back to Bulgaria in about seven months."

Ron thanked him by chucking a bottle of ink at him, which luckily didn't break.

Soon though, the night passed, the morning came and as two of the trio left for History, Harry returned to the dormitory from his jogging to begin attempting his cobra Animagus form - which he knew would be a lot harder than the lion, as it wasn't a mammal, and rather than changing his limbs he'd be absorbing them into himself.

When break-time came (and to be honest, Harry had made little progress, only managing to elongate and split his tongue to the forked one of a snake) , Harry ended his practice, and joined the others in making bets whether Pansy Parkinson would actually have a date, and if so, whether it would be Malfoy.

---

Transfiguration, lunch, and Care of Magical Creature followed, after which the students were forbidden to enter the Great Hall, in a way reminiscent of the Halloween party. When they were allowed in though, at six thirty, it had not been decorated with pumpkins and thorny roses, but holly, ivy and a gigantic fir tree, nearly as tall as the one that had been dragged into the entrance hall that morning.

Fake snow drifted from the ceiling and vanished as it touched the floor, and the tables were, if it was possible, laden with even more food than at the Halloween party. "Cool decorations," said Ron, impressed, as the band on stage struck up a merry tune. "I don't think they're as cool as the Halloween ones, though."

"No, but they're all right," agreed Harry, scooping a ladle of punch into a glass. "You know, I've discovered it's a lot easier if you don't have a date - you can just hang around and make sarky comments about everyone."

"Yeah, but you've never actually _been_ on a date," Ron added. "I mean, you never even _saw_ Cho at the party."

Harry paused. "Oh, who cares? It's the thought that counts," he said, shrugging and taking a swig of the punch.

"Tomorrow, the holidays begin," Ron announced happily. "Verily, we are freed upon the morn!"

"Thank you, Sir Cadogan," Harry said drolly. "I thought you'd be annoyed - you know, that we're staying with Krum and his family while we're in Sweden."

"Well, I was," admitted Ron, "but I don't think Hermione's interested in him - not that that's got anything to do with it," he said hastily, "and besides, I think I'm too full of the 'holiday cheer' stuff for my own good. You?"

Harry gave a half-grin. "Me? I'll just be happy to have some peace and quiet, instead of running around fleeing from daemons and dragons. It's just going to be a nice, relaxing, three-weeks' holiday. What could go wrong?"


	16. Chapter 16: Hurricane

Chapter 16: Hurricane 

"The invention of the Golden Snitch is credited to ... Bowman Wright of Godric's Hollow." - Quidditch Through the Ages

- - -

Thursday morning, the thirtieth of November, the beginning of the Winter holidays - or as Ron put it, '_Freeeedooooooom!_'. This was quite astounding, as being a Pureblood, he had never even heard of Braveheart.

Hermione and Harry didn't linger too long on this, though; they were too busy packing their things and leaving for the carriages. They would be staying at the Burrow until the eighth of December, which was when they would be starting off for Kopparberg in Sweden, the place where the annual Swedish Broom Race began.

This was the first time that he wouldn't be at Hogwarts for Christmas, Harry realised, as he set Hedwig's cage onto one of the spare seats and pulled himself up to sit next to Ron, Ajax hopping in after him. Hermione, sitting opposite the boys, pulled the door closed, and as she did so, the coach started to move off down to the train station.

Their trunks had already been taken down to the train by the House Elves, and they were only taking their animals with them (except for Ron, who had managed to convince Dobby to put Pig on the train with his luggage, so that they wouldn't have to listen to his hyperactive hooting for the duration of the trip). Hermione had Crookshanks and Morgana, her great-horned owl. Ajax kept silent, thankfully - Harry wouldn't have liked to explain a talking bird - but regarded Crookshanks with suspicion.

It took a long time for them to finally make it into the train, and even longer them to reach Platform 9 ¾; the station was packed with boarding-school students returning home, and their families, people returning from work, people taking the train to an airport or port for their holidays - with the unmistakable orange hair of the Weasley family, it still took the trio, the twins and Ginny ten minutes to spot Mr and Mrs Weasley.

"Had a good term?" Mrs Weasley asked, as the students easily slipped into the Ministry vehicle, the same type that they had travelled by in their third year. "The Ministry's letting us use this car for a while," he explained before Harry asked. "Since Fudge had finally admitted You-Know-Who's return and all. Now, I think it would be best if you all went straight to bed when we arrive - you've had a long day, I'm sure."

Harry could have prescribed an Oxtamed pill for himself to sort that out, but decided he really shouldn't give up on sleep completely - he was quite exhausted now that the term's events had caught up with him, and when he stumbled into Ron's bedroom at the Burrow and collapsed onto the bed they had set up, he was asleep in moments.

- - -

The next few days were spent beginning holiday homework so that they would have more time for recreation in Sweden - Harry had less than the others, thanks to taking the OWLs early, but there was still plenty to be getting on with - and by December the second, Harry had already finished his Charms and Herbology essays, as well as most of his Astronomy composition. The others had done about the same amount.

There were dubious cracking sounds, like muffled explosions, coming from the twins' room occasionally, and Harry was thankful he hadn't been put in there - Hermione was staying in Ginny's room, while Percy was severely aggravated, and usually locked his door, screaming through the wood for Fred and George to 'stop that racket' because they were 'interrupting important Ministry work'. "You'd think the second-in-charge of the Department of International Magical Co-operation could get his own flat or something," they pointed out in retaliation.

There was a trip to Diagon Alley to buy presents for Hagrid's wedding (and to hire suits and dresses for Ron, Harry and Hermione), and several spirited games of Quidditch back at the Burrow.

All too soon, it was Thursday, and after waking up early for a long trip on the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade, where there was a Wizarding church - and Harry felt quite uncomfortable in his black suit - they arrived at St. Anthony's Church for Wizards and Witches, pouring in with the other guests to wait for the bride to arrive.

Harry had been right - Wizarding marriages were different to Muggle ones, though unfortunately not very much - there was no special magic used, apart from to decorate. Hagrid was nowhere to be found for a while, but after a bit of explaining by Ron and some other Wizarding-born guests, Harry discovered that the bride and groom arrived together; and arrive together they did, just a few minutes later.

The wedding went smoothly (though Mrs Weasley and several other women burst into tears), and Harry thankfully didn't lose the rings that he had been given just before the wedding march. The vows were slightly different to Muggle ones; there were several lines added, and a few words were changed.

Finally though, the photos had been taken, the cake - a ten tier of monstrous height, impossible to make without magic - was cut, and the formalities dissolved into friendly speech and celebrations. Now, the trio could get Hagrid alone to voice their fears, and they saw their chance when Olympe Hagrid disappeared for a few minutes to talk to some of her staff, who had travelled from Beauxbaton.

They started with greetings and congratulations, but finally Ron blurted out, "Hagrid? Where are you and Madame Max- Olympe - going to live?" He elaborated, "You're not moving to France, are you?"

Hagrid looked surprised. "Move to France? 'Course not! Not goin' t' move away from Hogwarts, now, am I?"

Ron smirked triumphantly at Harry and Hermione. "Where are you going to be, then?" the girl asked.

Hagrid scratched his neatly combed beard, which was astoundingly tangle-free. "Well, we've had a long talk about it. During holidays, I can't get away from gamekeepin' duties, so Dumbledore's goin' to have special quarters set up for us inside the castle. At term times, Olympe can walk down to the Hogsmeade Portplace, and head over to Beauxbaton in a jiffy."

"They've set up a Portplace in Hogsmeade?" said Ron, fascinated. "Cool!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, Ron. That's how we're getting to Sweden."

The other boy paused. "Oh. I didn't know that."

"Goin' t' Sweden for the holidays?" Hagrid said in interest, bending down lower. "Stopped by there on my... travels," he said, looking incredibly shifty, "Really nice place. Goin' to watch the Broom Race, no doubt?" The trio nodded. "Yeah, they were advertising that when I was there. Goin' to be a real good one, this year. Anything interesting happen while I was gone? We didn't hear much of the news - only got back last night."

"Trelawney was eaten by a daemon that was released from an Unspeakable's Myrrh Cage by a Death Eater who tried to sacrifice me." said Harry immediately, after a deep breath to get it all out in one go. Hagrid laughed.

"That's a good 'un, Harry. Nothing important then?"

"He's telling the truth." Hermione informed him. As Hagrid stared at her, disbelieving, they explained the whole story. "But some good did come out of it, because now the Ministry's admitting You-Know-Who's return."

"Well, at least the daemon's gone," Hagrid muttered, mopping his forehead with a large handkerchief. "Blimey, Harry, when you get into trouble, you go all the way, don't you?"

"It's not as though I tried to get involved," Harry grumbled, allowing himself a sip of the champagne. Well, it was a wedding, after all. "Anyway, where are you going for your honeymoon?"

- - -

Two days later, they were back in Hogsmeade, this time heading for the Portplace. It was a small, unmarked building of the same type as the estate agents, as in 'squashed between two other buildings' and 'bloody small'.

"Kopparberg, ten o'clock, room four." snapped the receptionist as the trio and Mr Weasley entered, pulling their luggage behind them. Thankfully, room three was only one storey up, so they didn't have to lug their belongings up more than one flight of stairs.

A large fireplace - taking up most of the room - were the sole contents, and a few Wizards, who stood huddled in a group, chatting about the 'Elemental Rider' brooms. Harry guessed that they too were going to the Swedish Broom Race. Mr Weasley said goodbye at the door and left, while Harry and Hermione and Ron took their place in one of the corners of the fireplace. "It's more like Floo than Portkeys," muttered Hermione.

"Well, that's what I told you before," Ron retorted. "Anyway, how long until ten o'clock?"

Harry checked his watch; "Two minutes. Er - there's not going to be a fire lit, is there?"

"Yeah, but there's flame-freezing charms all over the room," he explained cheerfully. "We're completely safe - unless someone's tampered with the protection spells."

"Ron, don't say that!" Hermione snapped in horror, "You know how bad our luck is! You'll jinx us!"

"Boo." the boy said drolly, just as Harry felt a sudden tickling sensation over his body. "Right - is everyone feeling that?" He waited for the other's nods. "That's the flame-freezing starting to work. The fire should start in a minute." Harry started feeling a little nervous at that (unsurprisingly), but the flames were not the huge ones he was expecting; sourceless, they slowly rose just a few inches, covering the stone floor.

"And in a second, the-" began Ron, but it was too late for explanations; the flames shone jade-green, leapt upwards to above Harry's head flaring in ferocity. Harry tried to leap back in shock, but he was frozen still - and in a rush of whistling in his head and blurring images passing before his eyes before he could out what they were, they whistling and rushing ceased, and he stumbled forwards, able to move.

Glad he had no glasses anymore, for otherwise he would surely have lost them during the journey, Harry realised that they had made it to the Portplace of Kopparberg.

"We're here," he gasped out - the stone-covering underfoot was slightly different, the door changed, and the group of Wizards were heading to the door, complaining that brooms just weren't made like they used to be. Ron grabbed the bags, seemingly unaffected - well, he'd probably travelled by Floo more times than either Hermione or Harry - and also started for the exit. Harry grabbed his own luggage, shaking the confusion away, and raced after him. Hermione had already recovered her bearings, and followed after them.

"Right," said Harry as they left the building. "See Krum anywhere?"

"D'ya think that could be him?" Ron asked, staring somewhere to Harry's left. The others looked that way, and Harry's jaw dropped. A long, white, stretched limousine with tinted windows was parked in front of them, on the Muggle road. Hermione didn't look impressed though.

"Oh, honestly!" she snapped. "Sweden is meant to be a country of forests, and lakes, and untouched land! He could have dropped the fancy cars for a few weeks, and hired a bicycle instead."

"Yeah, but we'd never be able to carry the bags on a bike, and besides, not all of Sweden's forests - where would the people live?" Ron pointed out, and earned a glare for his troubles.

Harry rolled his eyes, and made his way over to the car; the driver's door opened as he did so, and the chauffeur stepped out, donned in the typical black uniform and hat. "Potter?" he asked in a Bulgarian accent; it looked as though the Krums had brought their own chauffeur, rather than hiring a Swedish one.

Harry nodded as his friends followed behind him, still bickering, and the chauffeur set to work putting their luggage in the large trunk of the car - after opening the door for them. They slipped in, admiring the interior - white leather, a drinks cabinet, Edwardian-style veneer, and even some cream, silk cushions tossed on the seats.

"No seatbelts," Hermione pointed out. "Terrible for road safety. Wouldn't get away with it in England."

"Actually, I think you would," Harry replied. "Not to mention all the people using their mobile phones while driving, or checking maps, or smoking, or - sorry 'Mione, shutting up now."

"I wonder why Viktor didn't come here himself?" Hermione mused, but Ron snorted.

"Oh, that's easy enough. All the competitors are practising for days before the actual event; making sure they're in top form and all. He's probably too busy training to come meet us."

Harry elbowed him - he seemed a bit too gleeful at making Krum out to be some kind of flying-fanatic who couldn't care less about his guests - but Hermione didn't seem too bothered. "Yes, I should suspect so," she said, looking a lot more reassured. "I mean, this is important, isn't it? Doubtless, he's practising."

It was an hour-long drive to the hotel they were staying at; 'Oasis', which the owner had obviously named in English to make it sound more exotic, though being English, it didn't impress the trio. Oasis was Magical only, much like the Leaky Cauldron - though of course, it was a proper hotel rather than a bar, and doing much more business at this time of year, thanks to the spectators at the Annual Broom Race.

The rooms had already been booked - Krum's parents were in room sixty-three, Viktor himself was in sixty-four with his younger brother (this was the first the trio had heard of his sibling), Harry and Ron were sharing a room in sixty-five, and Hermione was alone in sixty-six. Mr and Mrs Krum were friendly (if a bit upper-class) people, while Nicholas, Viktor's brother, stayed in his room practically the whole time.

"I'm afraid he is sulking, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor explained apologetically. "He did not want to come here, but my parents insisted he accompany us." It turned out that Nicholas did a lot of 'sulking'; though he was only twelve he usually stayed in his room even when he was at home, and had literally no friends.

"Sounds like a nice chap to meet," Ron muttered. "Very sociable."

Harry masked a grin as he unpacked his things, leaving the laptop and rod inside his trunk so that Ron didn't see them. "You brought your Invisibility Cloak?" the red-head asked in surprise, and Harry shrugged.

"Well, you never know," he retorted as he folded it again and slipped it between the bottom drawer and the base of the chest of drawers. "What I'd like to know is, whatever happened to the Marauders' Map?" he wondered.

"Who knows?" Ron sighed. "I mean, Crouch Junior had it last; probably passed it along to all his little Death Eater friends as soon as he got it." he finished, as he moved Harry's Sneakoscope aside to dump some socks.

They spent the rest of the evening finishing homework, and after supper and everyone going to bed, Harry made sure that Ron was asleep, before pulling out his laptop and switching on to the 'Languages' section.

He swiftly found Swedish and inserted as much of it as he could onto the rod, before preparing for the small pain in his head, and 'reading' it. This time, there was practically no pain at all.

Glad that it looked like he was building a resistance to the splitting headaches that he had first received, Harry slipped into the hotel bed, now fluent in Swedish as well as Mermish, Phoex, Telepathy and English - which meant he'd have a much better idea of what people were saying about him.

- - -

Sunday was spent travelling around and checking the sights of the Wizarding section of Kopparberg (except for Nicholas, who refused to leave the hotel). A small bout of shopping was instigated by Hermione and Mrs Krum, while Viktor, Harry and Ron drifted over to a broom shop, where - because of the Race - a large crowd had gathered to buy souvenirs and mementos of the event.

Harry read a few of the signs and labels, remembered he wasn't supposed to understand Swedish, and went back to just admiring the stock. There were several Swedish brooms for sale, ones which weren't available in Britain; they translated to 'Stormhanger', 'Whiplash 1000' and 'Ashwinder'; personally, Harry preferred 'Firebolt'.

"Are you going to riding one of these?" Ron asked the Bulgarian boy, as they admired the craft of the brooms.

"I will be riding a Skyscreamer," Viktor replied in his almost emotionless tone. "It is a Bulgarian design, and the one I use is specially made for me; this may be the first time I will compete, but I will win all the same."

Harry raised an eyebrow - he certainly was confident of a victory.

They were called back from the Wizarding stores a few hours later, back to the hotel. "The race starts at eleven o'clock tomorrow," Mr Krum informed them, "And we'll be walking there, as it isn't far, but we'll have to leave at ten to get there, so I want everyone to have an early night." She said this in such a no-nonsense way that no-one dared to argue with her, and they went to bed without a quarrel.

They got up at about seven o'clock the next day (Swedish time, though to the trio it was as if it were six o'clock; thankfully there wasn't enough of a time-delay for Floo-lag), and were ready to go at nine. Nicholas finally ventured forth from his room, only because his parents demanded he come; he was a scrawny, deathly pale boy, with bags under his pale blue eyes. He didn't say anything to anyone - just scowled at them, obviously angry he'd been pulled out of the room.

As they left the settlement behind and began their walk through the fields to the starting place of the race, Hermione noted the awards. "The prize for the winner nowadays is four-thousand Galleons, a solid gold medal, and a cup shaped like a Swedish Short-Snout," she read from the English leaflet Ron had picked up from the broom shop. "That's about ten-thousand pounds, isn't it?"

"Impressive," applauded Ron. "Mind you, you have to go through that dragon reservation, so I guess it's not all just a straight fly through. Though all you really have to do is follow the markers," he corrected himself, "so it's not as though you have to memorise the layout or anything."

- - -

When they reached the starting place, obvious by the huge amounts of people milling around, market-traders, sponsors, Aurors and normal security, and competitors, it was obvious something was wrong. It was now six minutes past ten, and the race hadn't yet started, much to some of the competitors' obvious disgust.

"What's happening?" Mr Krum demanded, pushing forwards through the crowd to get to the race organiser. He repeated the question in Swedish, which Harry could of course understand. The boy moved forwards so he could hear what was said.

"Terry Jacobs has dragon-pox," came the reply from the organiser, who was looking worryingly pale. "Normally we'd just go ahead without him, but he's from the Stonewall Stormers in America; he's a professional, and he's being sponsored to do this. We have to get a replacement, but we can't find one on such short notice."

Harry remembered the man from the leaflet in Hogsmeade. So Terry Jacobs was the Stormer; the one that was being sponsored to raise money for one of the Magical Hospitals in America. "I wonder what's going on?" Hermione questioned from somewhere behind Harry, only hearing the Swedish.

Moving out of his friends' earshot, Harry quickly converted to speaking Swedish, thinking the English words and then translating them as he went along. His accent wasn't very Swedish, but he easily got his point across.

Unable to control himself, he spoke up, "I can take his place. All I need is a broom."

The organiser and Mr Krum were silent as they turned and surveyed Harry. "Who are you?" the organiser asked, looking as though Harry were the saviour of the world. (Which he actually was.)

"Harry Potter. Is there an age limit?" he asked, mentally kicking himself.

The organiser shook his head, thankful. "We can get you a broom; Jacobs' broom is still here - we keep them here for a week in case someone tries to tamper with them. It's a Nimbus 2001; will that be all right?"

Harry cursed inwardly; he was better with a Firebolt, rather than the now slightly out-of-date Nimbus series. "It'll be fine," he decided. "Er - why are you letting me try it?"

"Because you're the only volunteer," the man barked out, "and if I don't find a solution within a couple of minutes, the crowd's going to kill me." He motioned one of his aides away. "Fetch Jacobs' broom. Now, Mr... Potter? Good. I'm going to go through the rules quickly. Follow the red lights that appear every hundred yards, don't take short-cuts, don't attack any other players or the spectators. You don't have to win, just finish the race, even if you come last - the sponsors will still pay then. Go!"

With that, he grabbed Harry by the shoulders, spun him round, and marched him off to the starting track, where Krum and the others watched him in curiosity. Harry wondered what on Earth he was getting into, and why he'd done that. As he was led away, Hermione and Ron suddenly called his name in surprise; Harry half-turned and shrugged helplessly. "I'll explain later," he mouthed, wishing he had thought things through a little more.

"Er - hi." Harry said to Krum as the other players stared at him in surprise. "I'm taking Terry Jacobs' place."

Krum looked quite interested. "You will be a challenge - your flying past the dragon in the Tournament was excellent." Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when a Nimbus 2001 was forced into his hand by the aide, and an amplified voice announced a welcome to the Annual Swedish Broom Race of that year, followed by a list of some of the more famous of the hundred and forty-two competitors; Harry picked out the names of players in several British Quidditch teams. The announcer (after the applause and cheers had died down) then apologised that Terry Jacobs wouldn't be flying, due to a bout of Dragon Pox, and that his place would be taken by a 'Mr Potter'.

Harry couldn't help but grin at that; the organiser obviously hadn't recognised him for the pictures of the weedy boy who had been in the papers years ago, and if he'd known that he was the Harry Potter, he'd have been placed in the list of famous contestants. He didn't have long to mull over it - the order came to mount their brooms.

Harry quickly stepped over his broom, and led it carefully into the air. He was between the middle and front rows of the competitors, so he rose a few metres higher than the top-most one, shivering in the freezing air, and strengthened his warming charm, pulling his cloak tighter as well. Ahead of them, Harry could see a faint trail of red lights, each one about a hundred yards from the next. Licking his slightly blue lips as the announcer started the count-down, Harry took a deep breath of the cold air and wondered why he'd got himself into this.

Krum was some way below and slightly to the left of him; as he looked down to see him, Harry realised just how high he was, with a beautiful view of the mountains, a large forest, and each person in the crowd just a blurry blob of hair and flesh-coloured shadow. "Four! Three! Two! One! GO!"

Snapping back to reality as the leading row shot off, followed by the next, Harry cursed himself for not paying attention and gripped his broom, urging it to go as fast as it could.

He too shot forwards - but he was overtaken by several cheering Wizards and Witches on Firebolts and another two brands that he didn't recognise; one of them had writing on it that looked Japanese.

Scowling at their rapidly departing backs, Harry let his tense muscles relax in the hopes of it speeding the broom up, and was hit with a bolt of inspiration. If he could convince his mind that he was a lion, and in so doing, change his body to that of a lion, why shouldn't the same thing work with a broom?

All you had to do with the Animagus transformation was know the basics - that your heart would have to change, even if you didn't know how, that your bones would have to be stronger, even if you didn't know how much - and the magic would change it for you; and Harry knew the basics of a Firebolt.

Even better, just as Animagus transformations couldn't be detected, this type of transformation worked in the same way - unlike most transfigurations, this couldn't be detected either, which meant no Ministry owls bearing letters of expulsion, swooping down to meet him.

As he passed the third red marker, hurtling forwards with the wind whipping against his face, Harry managed to bring himself into the right state of a relaxed mind, and imagined his magic being released out of his hands into the handle he was gripping. 'You're a Firebolt,' he told the wood firmly, 'You're flying through the air like Firebolts do, and up ahead there are four Firebolts - that means you must be one as well, because you're flying with them.'

He released a large amount of magic for this; changing a part of him was hard enough, but changing something that was completely separate - whilst he was hurtling through mid-air - needed a lot more convincing magic.

His arms and then hands started to itch as the magic was released into the broom, and he could feel it starting to change beneath him; the wood turned to a lighter ash, the handle rising slightly and stretching out; the tail began to shift to birch, before stopping - Harry forced some more magic into it, telling it that if its handle was ash, like a Firebolts', then the rest of it must be a Firebolt too. This began to work; the twigs shifted to birch, straightening and changing colour slightly. Harry felt another tingle as the breaking charm the Firebolt incorporated came into existence, and the word 'Firebolt' appeared in golden lettering on the handle.

Harry grinned - and then the speed kicked in, and he hurtled recklessly past the two rows ahead of him, giving a small yelp. He quickly got it back under his control, overtaking a pair of twin Asian women on Dryads, and a man on a Stampede 500, flashing a grin as he easily passed them by.

Now they were reaching the end of the fields and the edges of the forests, and Harry could see the red glow of the markers leading the competitors into a narrow valley which was sheltered by two particularly large mountains or hills - Harry didn't know which, and he cursed himself for not checking the geography of the race-course before.

Letting out a small cry as he was nearly shunted aside by an over-eager opponent, Harry quickly shot forwards and cut in front to block him, sending the man careening to the left and further back. Relaxing further, and taking a deep breath to try and prepare himself, Harry fixed his gaze on the line of red lights, and urged the broom on as fast as possible. He may not have to win - but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try.

- - -

"I can't _believe_ he'd do this!" Hermione fumed, while Ron and the Krums just watched the plates of crystal that displayed each person participating in the race. "Just run off with no plans, not even tell us where he's going, or what he's doing - I mean, what does he think he's doing?!"

Ron waved his hand at her to keep her quiet, not looking up. "That's nice, 'Mione. But look at the lead he's got! He's gone straight to twenty-seventh, and I swear his broom's looking different than from when he began - can't get a good look at it, though..."

Hermione said something that sounded suspiciously like 'hrmph!'.

Viktor Krum had gone behind Harry, at number fifty-six, and was now trying to force his broom to catch up with those who were in the lead, though he wasn't succeeding.

Mr Krum snapped his fingers, and Hermione stopped looking around the crowds of spectators and turned to hear what he had to say. "Harry's coming up to the dragon reserve," he announced, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the viewing crystal. "_Here's_ where it's going to start to get tricky."

- - -

The competitors were far more spaced out now; many were lagging behind, far back at the end - those in the lead were widely spread, great distances between them, and also flying at different heights in the hopes of being able to pass those in front more easily.

Harry was quite high, and he could just see the woman in front of him, quite far in the distance. She'd obviously modified her broom, because it didn't look as though a normal one of them would go that fast.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry managed to get his broom to speed up a little in hopes of catching up with her. The wind was whipping against him as he hurtled brutally through the air, his hair pulled forcefully back in the gale.

He was twenty-seventh, and Harry knew that he was never going to be able to be first - he might not even be able to overtake the woman in front - but he wished he could. That would show Krum, and Malfoy, and anyone who still thought he was mad; that would show Leone that he wasn't so scared of her and her daemon that he couldn't face the world and enjoy himself and compete and win

The screams and cheers of excitement snapped him out of his reverie, and Harry realised that he was clutching his broom so tightly that his nails had bitten into the solid wood, leaving tiny indentations. Relaxing his arm muscles, he realised that he had stopped - he was on the ground, in fact - and he was surrounded by a crowd thick with people of all nationalities. What was happening?

Releasing his hold of magic on the broom so that it reverted to a Nimbus, Harry stared around himself, wide-eyed. Just a second ago he'd been flying into the valley that led to the dragon reserve; and suddenly he was on the ground, though he didn't remember landing. The roar of the throng around him was deafening, and as reality caught up with him, he comprehended that people were reaching out to slap his back, shake his hand...

"What - what's going on?" he gasped out as he saw Ron and Hermione forcing their way through the crowd.

"Come off it, mate, you can't have expected anything else!" Ron yelled above the congratulations and cheers. "You came first! You won!"

Harry gave a start, spinning around to look at all sides of him. "But - but I was up in the air," he stuttered, trying to explain, "I can't have won - it hasn't ended yet..."

His shocked face turned to a frown as a thought struck him, and he pulled his sleeve up to check his watch. It said that the time was twenty minutes to five; but when Harry had last checked his watch whilst flying, it had been ten minutes past eleven, and not long could have passed after that, surely...

He was startled back to reality by brilliant flashes of light. The reporters and photographers had finally made it through the gathering, cursing as people jogged their notepads or camera, and shouting out questions to him, asking him to smile for the camera - This isn't right, Harry couldn't help but think, still disorientated, I can't be here.

He grabbed Ron by the shoulder and Hermione by the arm, and started forcing his way through the crowd. "Sorry, excuse me," he yelled, the words slipping out of his mouth in Swedish. "Come on," he hissed at his friends, who were dragged along beside him, puzzled by his behaviour. "Where's Mr and Mrs Krum?"

"With Victor and Nicholas - look, over there - Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, and then thought better of it. "I'll tell you later, when we're alone," he decided aloud. "Hermione, why are you trying to stop?"

"Will you just hold on?" the girl hissed, shaking his hand free of her. "You've still got to collect your prizes!"

"What?" Harry burst out, astounded that she could think of such a thing at a time like this, but it was too late. A hand grasped his shoulder from behind, and pulled him around.

"The winner, Harry Potter!" bellowed the organiser, as he flung a scarlet ribbon around Harry's neck. It tugged him forwards slightly, and looking down, Harry discovered that hanging from it at chest height was a thick, golden disc, with the number '1' raised from its surface.

Before he could stutter a reply - this was getting far too confusing for him - a giant cup was forced into his arms, silver and shaped like a dragon; a Swedish Short-Snout, he recalled from Hermione's lecture that morning.

It was tremendously heavy, thanks to the golden Galleons overflowing from its top, and the organiser had to help him hold it up as the cameras clicked madly, and the crowd applauded him...

Giving in and grinning, Harry accepted that whatever had happened, these people thought he had won, and he wasn't going to let a little fact like that it was probably a dream stop him from enjoying it.

"Let's go, before they mob you," a voice shouted in his ear, and Harry felt something cold pressed against his wrist. Ron and Hermione reached out to grab hold of the object, and a second later, Harry felt the familiar, churning sensation that came with the use of a Portkey.

- - -

As the hallway of the Oasis hotel came into view, Harry nearly dropped the cup, now much heavier thanks to the lack of the organiser holding it up with him. He strained to lift it, for a second, but Ron came to his aid and Harry was free to look around. They were in the hallway outside their hotel rooms; him, Ron, Hermione and Mr Krum, who must have made the Portkey to get them away before they were mobbed.

A few seconds later, as Harry regained his bearing, a second Portkey brought Mrs Krum and her sons nearby.

Nicholas unlocked and entered his room upon arrival, without a word or glance at anyone, slamming the door behind him. Victor looked slightly disappointed, but also very interested at something, and he stepped forwards to shake Harry hand ferociously. "That was amazing flying, Harry," he said in his thick accent, and Harry wondered what flying he was talking about. "That loop was incredible - and the turns - I could never compare. You could say, the best man won." Clapping him on the shoulder, Victor gave him a nod, and left for his own room.

Harry stood and stared.

Regaining his tongue, he managed to force out some words. "What happened? I mean - did I really win?"

"First place!" Ron crowed, as Hermione tried to look disapproving of his taking part, and failed miserably. "But those stunts you did, mate - I mean, I've never seen anything like them. The way you flew, it was -"

"Mr Krum, could I spend the rest of the day with Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked quickly. "I really need to talk to them, it's pretty important."

The man looked surprised, but nodded. "Of course, you're free to do as you wish," he smiled, "It is your holiday after all." He turned to unlock his door, and his wife also followed at him, smiling a congratulations at Harry. As the door shut behind them, Harry sighed his relief.

"We need to talk," he said, before Ron or Hermione could ask him anything. "'Mione, do you have the key?"

Hermione nodded, and pulled out the key to her own room, before unlocking the door. Harry and Ron dragged the silver monstrosity inside her room, and slowly lowered it onto the floor.

"Did you know, that has all the prize money in it?" Hermione said informatively, as she shut and locked the door behind them. "It actually has a sort of restricted Never-Fill charm on it, so all the ten-thousand Galleons can fit inside. It's had a lightening charm on it, but they keep it quite heavy so that it looks better in the newspaper photos; you know, the whole 'winning so much money you strain under the weight of it, thing'."

Harry had thrown himself onto one of the twin beds in silence, and waited for her to finish speaking, before he started his own talk. "Something weird happened out there."

"You're telling us," Ron muttered, obviously thinking of Harry's strange behaviour.

Harry glared at him. "I'm being serious," he snapped, "so please take me seriously!" He sat up, and scowled at the wall opposite. "I was about half an hour into the race, just going into the valley before the reserve; and suddenly I was in the crowd, and everyone was saying I won. I wish I had more details, but I don't."

He looked around to see his friends' puzzled looks. "It's like I blanked out, or something," he explained. "Like going to sleep; I don't know how it happened, but I don't remember anything between the valley and - winning."

Ron seemed disbelieving, but Hermione looked thoughtful. "Actually, you did seem strange after the valley - we were watching you in a viewing crystal; it's like a mirror, except made of solid crystal, and you can see certain things with that they're attuned to - and just after you reached the valley, you seemed to... I don't know... you didn't zone out, it's like you became more alert, instead."

Ron snapped his fingers. "Now you mention it, I noticed that too! I mean, before, it was like you'd reached your top speed, and you were just flying pretty normally - but during and after the valley, your flying style seemed to just improve. It didn't change completely; it was just... you were still flying your normal way, just... better."

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, intrigued. Ron held up his hands.

"It's hard to explain. It's like - well, I'll give you an example. When you reached the dragon reservation, you were seventeenth - you'd overtaken nine people, even though before it had seemed that you couldn't go any faster. When you reached a dragon - well, actually none tried to attack you, for some reason, but the way you flew around them when they tried to snap up the guy right behind you, it was amazing!

"You did this kind of loop-the-loop over one of them's tail, and this really cool twist under right under another's snout; and all the time, it was like you were focused on something, but not the flying - like there was nothing to it, and you were more interested in something else."

Harry shook his head in annoyance. "I don't remember! I don't remember anything about it..."

Hermione sighed, frustrated. "What a pain... still, I don't think you should worry too much about it, Harry."

Ron stared at her. "Not worry about it? He's lost hours of an important event from his memory, and you say don't worry about it!?"

Hermione grinned slyly. "Well, I think you should have learned from since we were eleven, that these mysteries we also seem to get ourselves into always get resolved by the end of the school year. I don't see why this should be any different. The only time we'll have to worry is when we find the answer, and if we don't like it.

"For now, the only thing we should be worrying about, is what the papers are going to say when they do a little research into the winner, and discover that he's from Britain - and he's that particular Harry Potter."

Harry groaned at this, and Ron laughed. "Good point, 'Mione. Harry, I think you'd better write to Sirius; if he finds out from a tabloid that you volunteered to fly through a dragon reserve, who knows what he'll do."

"Don't remind me," Harry grumbled, as he pulled himself up. "You know, I don't feel tired at all; and I should, having apparently been performing stunts for the past few hours. Weird, isn't it? Anyway, Ron, you're helping me to carry the Cup to our room."

Hermione shook her head. "What are you going to do with it?"

Ron and Harry lifted the Cup together, and Harry shrugged. "Well, the Cup and medal are to keep; but for the money, I think Fred and George might need a bit of help in raising the cash to buy their store."

- - -

The next morning, Harry woke early, and set out into the Wizarding section of Kopparberg. He'd already sent the letter to Sirius off with Hedwig - he didn't trust an owl from the Post Office to take a letter to a wanted 'criminal', just in case someone managed to track it.

Instead, the visit was simply to buy any presents he hadn't already bought (he found a beautiful necklace for Ginny, and a wand-holster for Ron, who had been admiring Harry's). As he stopped for a late breakfast at a café, he was almost recognised by some women who had been watching the race the previous day; he managed to escape before they could ascertain his identity, though.

Wishing he had remained at the hotel, with his laptop, Harry rounded a corner, only to notice a certain magpie perched atop one of the roofs. Managing to hide a smile, Harry followed Ajax as the bird fluttered along, leading him down a small alley, dark enough that no-one would see them.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, though relieved to see a friendly face, even if it wasn't human.

The bird ruffled his feathers and performed what was obviously a shrug. "If you really though I was just going to wait with that cat at the Weasley's house, you were sorely mistaken." he croaked, hopping closer. "I managed to get Levina to make me a Portkey to Sweden, and then followed our link from there. Anyway, I was looking at the front pages of the newspapers today, and guess what I saw?"

Harry groaned, and Ajax gave a harsh laugh. "Well, I'm sure you know, then. They've figured out who you are, and if it weren't that you're wearing Muggle clothes today, they'd have swarmed over you." He squinted at Harry. "Plus, your hair was pretty windswept yesterday. Amazing what a good hairbrush can do, huh?"

"Whatever," Harry muttered. "So, I don't have long until they recognise me, then. I mean, there aren't that many Wizarding places in Sweden with black-haired, green-eyed British boys. Great."

"Well, speaking fluent Swedish might throw them off the trail for a bit," Ajax hinted, before turning his head to preen himself. "Do you think you could get me some flea powder?"

Harry eyed him suspiciously. "You have fleas?"

"You never know. Anyway, I heard you did some pretty amazing flying, yesterday -"

"That's it!" Harry almost yelled, leaping up from where he'd been leaning against the wall. "Ajax, maybe you'll know. Look, when I was flying yesterday, I came up to the valley -"

"And lost a few hours worth of memories, right?"

Harry stopped. "How did you know?"

"For crying out loud, I'm your Familiar, aren't I?" Ajax snorted, stopping his preening. "I've already told you - I know everything you know. Maybe not the specifics, but I know the basic 'flying, then snap out of it on the ground a few hours later' thing. Okay?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "but do you know anything about it? I mean, why it happened, or what happened, or who did it?"

Ajax hesitated. "I know a little." he admitted. "Why it happened? I know, but I'm not saying. What happened? I know the basics, but nothing particularly detailed. And what I do know, I'm not saying. Who did it? You."

"The worst part of it's that you're still being more informative than Levina," Harry growled. "What do you mean, I did it? Did I wish upon a shooting star or something?"

"Thanks for the sarcasm," Ajax said, a bit hypocritically. "No, you just - well, I already told you; I can't say why. All you need to know is that you did it. Just hold on a little longer, why don't you? Everything's going to be explained in due time - or that's Levina said, anyway." he added.

Harry flung his hands into the air in frustration. "Great. My own Familiar's keeping secrets from me, and my tutor is talking more to a bird than to me. Wonderful. Brilliant. Just perfect. How come you get to know what happened, but I don't? It was me that it happened to, wasn't it?"

Ajax gave a small sigh. "Look, even I don't know much; only the bare bones, and not even a complete skeleton at that. But I promise you, you'll understand it soon, as will I. The only reason I've got a few hints of the truth is because I'll know a little more to protect you, but not enough to feel a need to tell you anything, and because apparently you're not ready to handle the truth."

Harry glared. "I'm ready to handle anything, and I don't need protection."

"Yeah, you sure protected yourself against the daemon really well - twice."

"I mean I don't need protection from a bird!" Harry argued, angrily. "Fine, then. Fine. I guess I've just got to accept that you're not going to tell me anything -"

"You'll know sometime by the end of next year," Ajax promised, "You'll know everything. That's what Levina says, and I think you can trust her."

Harry's scowl fell a little. "Fine," he repeated, a bit more quietly. "Until then, I suppose I just train?"

Ajax bobbed his head like a human would nod. "Sorry," he apologised, and Harry sighed.

"It's not your fault," he acknowledged. "Anyway, I'd better go - I'm staying at the Oasis hotel, room sixty-five. Just tap on the window, and Ron should open it for you."

Ajax nodded again, spread his midnight wings, and swept off, beating his wings to gain speed and altitude.

Harry sighed again, and made to leave the alley, heading back to the hotel where he wouldn't be recognised by the shoppers on the street.

- - -

Harry spent the rest of the day working on his website, and then spending a couple of hours downloading and 'reading' information about Sweden and its history, and chatting to Sleepless; Rhiannon wasn't online, though.

Ron and Hermione had gone with Victor to town, as they wouldn't be recognised; Harry's friend understood his annoyance with the press though, and reassured him it was fine for him to stay. While Harry called room service for his lunch, Mr and Mrs Krum were out enjoying a fancy meal at some expensive restaurant in the main, Muggle part of Kopparberg, and Nicholas was also having a meal sent up from the kitchens.

The Swedish Broom Race had flung another puzzle his way; and the strange thing was that he was actually beginning to enjoy the mysteries coming up around him. Either that, or his brain was being fried from overuse of the rods, Harry decided as he stroked Ajax's feathers and finished logged off. Either way, he had the rest of the holiday to look forward to.


	17. Chapter 17: Inferno

Chapter 17: Inferno 

"For there of a sudden I saw three shapes arise, 

Three hellish Furies boltered all with blood...." - Hell (Dante's 'Inferno')

--------------------------

Over the next week, the trio worked on their holiday homework, and thanks to several spells from Mr and Mrs Krum, Harry was able to go to town and on trips without being recognised.

There had been no hints as to how or why Harry had suddenly lost his memory, or controlled the broom with such fluid ease; instead, Harry pointedly ignored Ajax, instead choosing to work on homework, his website, and learning the many different types of sword-fighting with the help of his rods.

"The only bad thing about Sweden," Ron mused as Harry read through a letter he had received from Sirius, "is that it's so bloody cold. I mean, why couldn't Sweden be put along the Equator?"

"Because then you'd complain it was too hot," Hermione pointed out. "You know, we've only got twelve more days until we go back to the Burrow; another day after that, and the holidays are over. Isn't it amazing how the time just flew by?"

"Flies by," Harry corrected. "It's not as though the holiday's over yet. Actually, I'm looking forward to when it's over." He grinned happily. "Quidditch season starts when we go back, and the first match is Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff." His face fell a little. "Which means I'll be watching Cho. Damn."

Ron sniggered. "Never mind, mate. I'm sure she'll go easy on you in the next Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match."

Harry glared at him. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Anyway, you're going up against her in the finals of the chess tournament, just a few days after we get back, aren't you?"

Now it was Ron's turn to be worried. "Yeah, you're right... bugger, I hope she won't have a go at me just because I'm your friend. Stop smirking, Hermione!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I wasn't smirking, I was smiling. There's a difference. Anyway, when are your Career interviews? Mine's on January second, so I should be looking up the qualifications needed for teaching."

"Mine's on the second as well," Ron said, casting his eye over some particularly nice-looking Swedish chocolates that Harry was trying to disregard. "Harry's is the day before us, though, since he's not having a History lesson that day." He sighed theatrically. "Alas, if only Harry had failed the O.W.L."

"Do you want me to hit you?" Harry asked, only half-joking, as he put the letter down. "Besides, you've got our dates muddled up again; History is on Wednesdays, so I won't be skipping any lessons."

Sirius wasn't exactly very happy with Harry's 'fly over hungry dragons' stunt, and sternly informed he that he was lucky he wasn't receiving a Howler (the next paragraph mentioned how proud he was that Harry won, congratulations on the great flying, and said that Harry's father would have done the same, though, so Harry suspected he wasn't too angry).

On Thursday, Harry received a letter from Levina, informing him of what next terms lessons would be, the progress of the Unicorn (and scolding him for going away so that he wouldn't be able to see her), and warning him that his sword-fighting training was nearly coming to a close, and soon they'd be starting proper fighting, rather than the small spars they had usually - and after that, Harry would be making his own sword, a strange thought.

--------------------------

Christmas came astonishingly quickly, and even the ever-sulking Nicholas joined the trio and the rest of the Krums for a Christmas dinner in the hotel's expansive dining hall, from where they then travelled to the lounge and it's enormous Christmas tree to open their presents.

While Ron admired the fairies, trapped in glass cages like lanterns, hanging around the room (the staff assured Hermione that they were to be released the next day, as she almost had a fit upon seeing them), the others called him over to join them in opening gifts that they had either taken with them or been sent by owls over the past few days.

As Hermione almost squealed with delight over her presents from Harry, the books, 'Runes: An In-Depth Study', 'Apparition: The MOM Authorised Guide', and 'The Faerie Rings', and Ron happily thanked Harry for the thick, special collector's edition of Chocolate Frog card book, which had slots for the cards to slip into.

Whilst everyone opened their presents, Harry was only too pleased to see his own. From Hermione, he received a years subscription to 'Which Broomstick?', and from Ron, he gained books; 'Magical Duelling for Beginners (Volume I)' and 'A Tome of Charms'.

Ginny had given Harry a strange, leather circle of cloth, which wrapped around Harry's wrist. It was a dark scarlet, almost brown, and though the leather itself was quite thin, it was quite long, reaching from just above Harry's hand to five centimetres up his lower arm. On each side, it had an oval cut out of it.

It was (or so her letter said) a wristwrite, which would when writing, automatically train the hand to write in any language, whether they knew it or not. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be able to help understand the language, which was apparently what a wristread did.

Mr and Mrs Weasley had sent Harry a box of healthy food, rather than the chocolates they usually sent him - Ron had mentioned to them how Harry was now eating such things - and the twins had taken up the idea by giving him a set of beginner weights for lifting, as well as a large chocolate-fudge cake to tempt him. Harry quickly gave it to Mr and Mrs Krum, insisting they had it instead of him.

Percy gave him a pair of stones, which Harry thought was quite... unusual. Ron explained afterwards, however, that they were Seeing Stones; the rough, black pebble could be left somewhere, and by holding the smooth white one and concentrating on it, the person would be able to see what was happening around the black one.

Bill and Charlie put their presents together again; they gave Harry a huge set of moving figurines of Magical animals, which included Unicorns, Dragons, Fairies, Winged Horses and much more; and a set of Magical people, which included moving representations of Wizards, Merpeople, Goblins and others.

Sirius sent 'Magical Plants and Trees' and a Golden Snitch which Harry could practice his Quidditch skills with. There was a smattering of presents from others; Hagrid and his dorm-mates mainly - but the gift that really stuck out in his mind was the gift from Levina. Though Harry would make his own sword, the same obviously didn't have to be said about a back-up weapon.

It was a long, narrow box that the weapon arrived in, and when Harry unwrapped it and opened the box, he could only stare in wonder at the contents. The dagger was encased firmly in a hard white sheathe that seemed mirror-like, but at the top and bottom were diamonds inset into the stiff material.

Harry could already see the simple grip and small pommel, but he drew it out to see the blade as well, and gasped. The pommel was merely a ball of white, ringed with tiny diamonds; the grip was of the same simple white, but with no jewels. The blade, however, was not of the metal he was expecting.

Instead, as though hammered flat, the blade was also a stunning white, but something whiter than he had thought possible. A smooth material, harder and colder than anything he had felt before.

The blade, he realised, was a part of a gleaming dragon fang, somehow cut small and fine enough to create a blade thin and delicate, only half a foot long, but still powerful and deadly.

Slipping it back into its sheathe before anyone could notice it, he mentally cursed as he discovered that running his hand down the grip made the necklace of Y'Laagrondd burn again.

--------------------------

Checking the back of the pendant in the bathroom at the end of the day, Harry's suspicions were confirmed. Below the first two symbols was another one; this one completely unlike any letter or symbol he knew. It vaguely resembled a line going straight up, and then coming slightly down at an angle.

It had appeared sometime since the day the dragon had first appeared, for it had not been there then - and if he had to bet money, he would bet everything he had that it had appeared just moments ago, when the necklace had started to burn. But how much did it have left to write? What was it saying?

Wishing he had the answers - and he was sure that Levina had, and doubly so that she wouldn't tell him - Harry tucked the necklace beneath his pyjama top, and made his way to bed.

--------------------------

It was just a few days afterwards that their time in Sweden came to an end, and after goodbyes (except from Nicholas, who had said about a total of fifty words during the past three weeks), each made their way to their destinations. The trio returned home via the Portplace, and the Krums - as Durmstrang had a week of holidays remaining - were taking a Portkey to Germany, where Viktor was playing in an important match.

They had just one day at the Burrow to make sure they hadn't lost their school things, and that their uniforms still fitted them, before on Sunday, they were packed back off to school.

The first two days back were a breeze; talking to a few over-excited students who had come up to ask Harry about his victory in the Broom Race (Harry of course didn't mention that he had no idea how he'd done it), long, hard revision in lessons, and waiting until Tuesday arrived.

Harry waded his way through Herbology and Potions, and at lunch, he was summoned to his Career Interview in Professor McGonagall's office. It was only after he had entered and sat down in front of the teacher's desk that he realised he'd not much idea what he'd want to be. McGonagall looked at him expectantly.

"Now, Potter. You want to be an Auror, correct?"

Harry frowned. "No, Professor - I'd hate to be one."

This obviously wasn't quite what she had been expecting. The woman stared at him in obvious incredulity for a second, then stuffed some papers and leaflets about Auror Training on her desk away. "Well, I know how much you like Quidditch, but it takes a long time to get on a professional team -"

"I don't want to be a Quidditch player," Harry inserted, and this really shut her up.

McGonagall stared at him, lost for words, and Harry felt a slight, rebellious thrill at not being what she expected, not fitting in her perfect, planned view of the world, where it was proven that she obviously didn't know him, unlike what she may think. Just because his birth was planned didn't mean his whole life would be.

Deciding to suggest the same thing he had talked about with Ron and Hermione, Harry brought up his choice of a job. "I was wondering what sort of qualifications you have to get to become an ambassador," he stated.

Yet another sentence that she didn't expect him to say!

By the way McGonagall took her glasses off and cleaned them, a confused expression on her face, it was obvious that she didn't have any leaflets on becoming an ambassador to give to Harry.

"Well," she coughed, "a Magical ambassador has quite different responsibilities to a Muggle ambassador - for a start, Magical ones don't usually spend their time in one particular country, but instead travel around a lot, going to different countries or races. That's why an ability for learning and remembering languages quickly is a much valued skill for ambassador. You have to have a good mind for politics; know the laws and different treaties and agreements and so on; there's a lot of paperwork to deal with, as well as knowing all the formalities of royal dinners and such."

Harry nodded as he listened, memorising the information. "Is the pay good?" he asked, recalling Hermione had mentioned the earnings, but unable to remember exactly how much it was.

McGonagall pushed her glasses back on. "It's about forty-five thousand Galleons starting out, but it gets higher the longer you work. It's very hard, important work, of course, but the pay and holidays are excellent. Do you know what qualifications you'd need?"

Harry shook his head.

"You'd really need an E-Level in Magical Culture at Advanced or Master level; probably a couple of E-Levels in languages as well, so that it would be obvious you have a good head for them. Law is a must, and Advanced Auror Studies or Protective Magic would be a good idea - if you get into a nasty situation, because ambassadors are excellent targets for terrorists and such-like. Politics is a definite, as well."

The teacher delved into one of her desk drawers, and brought out a pair of small pamphlets. "These contain all of the information on types of E-Levels, NEWTs and so on - I'm afraid there aren't any booklets on ambassadors; it's not really a job a lot of students consider."

Harry thanked her as he took the pamphlets, but before he could ask any more questions, the door swung open and Professor Sprout rushed in to stand by McGonagall and urgently whisper something in her ear. McGonagall's expression turned grim, and she rose to leave.

"I'm afraid something rather important has come up, Mr Potter. I'm sorry, but we'll have to cut this short. Good luck." Seeing that he had been excused, Harry himself rose and left as quickly as he could for the dormitory.

--------------------------

"Something's going on," Harry announced to Ron, Hermione and Ginny once he was back in Gryffindor Tower. He would have preferred if Ginny wasn't there, but she had been playing chess with Ron, and he knew she wouldn't take kindly to being shooed away. Briefly, he explained what had happened.

Ron looked fascinated. "You got pamphlets?"

Smacking him on the arm, Hermione scowled. "Ron, that's not the point. You know, it might just be nothing; maybe one of the plants in the greenhouse has turned out to be mildly poisonous or something."

Harry shook his head. "I dunno, but I have a feeling it isn't that. If you'd just seen her - Sprout looked really worried, and McGonagall seemed pretty angry about something. Not a 'mad rage' thing, but 'extreme, disapproving seething'. You know, like when Fred and George played Whack Tag with the Whomping Willow."

Ron nodded thoughtfully, but Hermione looked unsure. Ginny seemed quite interested, and excited to finally be a part of the Dream Team's latest adventure, seeing as how her last part was 'possessed victim' several years ago.

Harry gave up. There was no other information to go on, and he didn't have any idea as to where the teachers had gone after he'd left. "Well, just keep an ear out for anything weird," he finally decided aloud. "I'm going to go to the dormitory and read."

As he sat on his bed, pulling the curtains around his bed, Harry took the time to scan 'Apparition: The MOM Authorised Guide' into the rod, and 'read' it through. Following that, he began reading the booklets Professor McGonagall gave him, and wondered what E-Levels grades he would attempt.

The days passed quickly; now there was practically no free time, thanks to the massive amounts of revision and homework forced upon them. Harry's load was slightly less than the others due to his already having taken two OWLs, and the trio overall had their troubles significantly lessened by the rods (all three could now stand several full rods before getting headaches), but there was still little time for entertainment.

By the time the Potions group handed in their potions coursework - creating several potions which were meant to cure various small ailments such as stomach-aches - the careers day was over (it hadn't been particularly useful) as was the Inter-House Chess Tournament. It had been Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor, and Harry was horrified to recall that the players were Cho Chang against Ron.

There was much adulation around the Tower, though, for Ron had managed to defeat her after a three hour game (which Hermione was horrified at; she firmly believed it was time better spent revising) from ten pm to one am. There were so many Gryffindors and Ravenclaws yawning the next day, the teachers were convinced there had been some kind of midnight feast or party.

There was a small ceremony where Harry and Hermione awarded the Inter-House Chess Champion Cup to Ron, while Colin Creevey snapped a few shots before anyone noticed he had a camera.

On Saturday the thirteenth, with just four days until the new 'Elemental Rider' brooms were released, Harry received his bank statement (£17,281,583 at the end of last month), and delighted in the fact that he was sure to be able to afford a broom - unless the bidding went a lot higher than expected.

At training that night, after spell creation classes had finished, Harry was excited to know that he was now a proud graduate of Levina's sword-fighting lessons.

"I'll be showing you staff-fighting, once you manage to beat me," Levina announced, tossing Harry his sword. Just a year ago, Harry would have dropped it, but now he snatched it in midair, and brought it round to one of the starting positions of the Atlantean fighting-art; the 'mandai dalan' within two seconds.

"We'll keep fighting until you beat me five times. You'll probably be exhausted after just one fight, but you're not always going to be attacked when you're fully refreshed, so it'll be a good lesson for you." Levina explained, bringing her own beautifully-crafted sword out. "If we run late, we'll continue next lesson."

Harry held the rough cloth covering on the sword grip, muscles relaxed to allow faster movement, and gritted his teeth determinedly. He'd had the help of the rods and an excellent tutor. He'd slain a basilisk at the age of twelve. He'd been exercising, eating healthily, and had actually noticed his muscles for once. He was damned if he wasn't going to win at least the first fight!

Levina casually twisted into a different starting pose; unlike Harry's 'mandai dalan' which was primarily defensive, her choice was the 'mandai min soten', a stance chosen for its readiness and allowance for easy and swift access to attack moves. Harry knew what to do in this instance; if the enemy chose attack, force them into defence.

As soon as Levina nodded her head to begin, Harry rushed forwards bringing the sword down and forwards, aiming for her chest. The mandai min soten made Levina move slowly to block it, but she managed in time. Harry had been expecting this, however; twisting to her side, he took advantage of her surprise and slashed at her left side.

Levina didn't block this; a cut an inch deep was obviously sliced through her, and this time not only blood was the result - Harry saw Levina give a jolt, and heard something snap. As he brought the sword back to try again, Levina slipped out of range, her blood soaking the shirt she had on.

"Nice shot," she said approvingly, as she scanned for a chink in Harry's defences, "feels like you got a couple of my wires. I don't think you've ever done that before."

Harry didn't waste his breath in a reply, like she was hoping. Instead he grinned to show he'd heard, and reminded himself one hit didn't constitute a victory. There was another danger of course; Harry had finally managed to beat her five times previously with her normal blade, and now she was fighting with her poisonous one. If Harry got one particularly long or deep scratch, let alone a whole swipe, and Levina couldn't heal him in time, he was dead.

Levina tested his defences with a jab to his stomach, but Harry didn't take the bait, and stepped backwards, before rushing forwards and managing to swipe her waist.

Just over half an hour later, they were into their fifth fight. Harry had won the first, second and fourth, while Levina had managed to defeat him on the third; luckily she was also fast with the healing spell - only one type could cure the poison in her blade, and only she knew it.

Harry was exhausted, but Levina was injured, while he - the smaller, more agile target - was harder to hit, and also was more determined not to lose. Finally, after Harry managed to force a powerful parry which smashed Levina's sword to the side, he brought his blade to her neck before she could re-engage him or defend herself.

"Fourth fight to me," Harry grinned, the edge of his sword hovering just a millimetre away from his teacher's neck. Levina rolled her eyes and pushed his arm away.

"I must be rusty," she declared in mock-superiority. "I've never been beaten by a juvenile delinquent in my life."

"Either rusty, or an excellent teacher," Harry smiled - partly because it was true, partly to be polite, and partly to play for time to get his breath back. A thought struck him. "Where were you then, since Atlantis sank? Did you escape to Britain with some of the humans?"

Levina sniffed. "Certainly not. In the ways of the Titanic; there was no room on the lifeboats. When the Five, the Dark, whatever you want to call them - sent their daemon army, a lot of boats were called into the military, and many more were sunk; fishing boats and whatnot, in hopes of preventing us getting food, or getting supplies from the mainland. By the time the foundations of Atlantis were destroyed in an underwater battle, there were few boats left - and I myself had already been sealed away along with-"

Levina cut herself off hurriedly. "Anyway, I was sealed away to stop android technology falling into the hands of the kingdom of Cyrin. If I had gone on one of the few boats, flying carpets or whatnot, I may have been taken prisoner, and it was impossible to Apparate around Atlantis due to the amount of wards and defences we'd put up."

"What about Portkeys?" Harry asked, pretending not to notice her slip-up.

Levina shrugged. "This was over five thousand years ago. Portkeys hadn't been invented then; transport was still incredibly primitive, and most research was in medicines, the movement of the stars, magic to help in everyday life - no-one had much wish to travel beyond the city, as it was such a paradise. In all of the island, there was only one port. Perhaps if there had been more, more people would have survived... but that's all in the past now.

"Fight?" Levina asked Harry, as she smiled cheerfully, and drew back to raise her sword.

Harry lost that fight, but he won the next, and Levina agreed to start teaching him staff-fighting next lesson. Harry's mind was awhirl as got ready for bed; Levina had said 'I myself had already been sealed away with-'.

With what? With whom? Or had she cut herself off halfway through - was she about to say 'without'? Within?

Another thing; she had apparently made most of Techno-Magic. If she had been locked away for so long, then she must have passed the information on to someone, and they had made the laptops and so on. But who?

Tired from his activities, Harry decided to think on it in the morning, and crawled into bed to nurse both bruises and weary limbs.

--------------------------

Harry unfortunately couldn't figure out what Levina's slip up was, and she didn't drop any hints in Divination lessons on Tuesday. The day after, Harry got to spend more time with 'Professor Carnaena', however - she was his bodyguard to the five o'clock start of the Elemental Riders' auction at the British Wizarding Museum.

The newspapers had been going on about nothing else for the past few days, and it was common knowledge around school that Harry (the lucky devil) would be going to the auction. No-one assumed he'd be buying one, though; his riches were still (thankfully) a well-kept secret, though he doubted it would be after tonight.

Levina and Harry took a Portkey to one of the rooms assigned to arrivals, and were immediately escorted to a large room that had dozens of tapestries and portraits hanging on the walls. This wasn't the room the brooms were to be auctioned in; there would be half an hour for everyone to arrive and mingle with the others.

Harry stood with Levina, a little unsure, over near one of the corners. Ron and the others had warned him it would be a posh affair, but he had never thought it would be like this; he saw managers and players of Quidditch teams - British, American, European, Asian - celebrities (he was sure he caught a glimpse of Celestina Warbeck), officials from the Ministry of Magic, reporters, broom experts and collectors.

Everyone was wearing dresses and tuxedoes, and he was glad he had relented to Hermione's insistence that he wore a tuxedo himself (though he hadn't liked the emergency mail-order to Gladrags). Levina seemed to be the only woman who hadn't been living in a hair-stylist for the past week, spent a thousand Galleons on a huge, puffy dress covered in diamonds, and caked make-up and fake-tan over her.

Harry wore a simple black tuxedo and tie (which felt more like a noose), his watch, and some expensive leather shoes which Hermione had insisted on dragging him out for on the same day she forced him - at wand-point - to order a tux. His unlikely bodyguard was wearing Muggle jeans, a pair of sneakers and a long-sleeved black top.

She was also wearing a long black coat, and though it looked thin and quite useless against the cold, Harry knew it was actually there to hide several daggers, a spare wand, a tiny purple cube - Harry didn't know what it was, and she refused to tell him, saying it was in case of an emergency - and a book. When Harry asked what the book was for, wondering if it contained some deadly spell, she informed him it was in case she got bored.

Harry didn't ask any more questions after that

Finally, after Harry had managed to avoid being noticed for half an hour, someone eased out from one of a huge pair of double doors, and tapped his wine glass, requesting silence. The murmurs and hubbub of 'how much are you going to pay', 'do you think I should get liposuction' and 'when are you going to tell your wife about us' died down immediately, and everyone turned to him.

"The auction is about to begin, so if you could make your way into the adjoining room, the bidding can start."

The crowd of perhaps two-hundred people made a polite but obvious rush to be the first one in, and Harry followed last, behind the reporters. Inside, rows of seats had been set up, and the cases containing Greek wands had been moved against the walls. A huge chandelier of candles hovered overhead, unattached to the ceiling but held up by magic. At the front, the auctioneer motioned to a woman standing at the corner of the room.

Immediately, two Wizards came from another adjoining room, carrying a large, oak case by its silver handles.

As Harry took his seat, and the potential buyers craned forwards eagerly, the woman walked over and started removing the security spells from the case. The auctioneer cleared his throat.

"This is the first of thirteen brooms up for sale; the first in the series of the 'Elemental Riders'."

As he finished the sentence, the woman unclasped the lid, and pushed it back, bringing out one of the most beautiful brooms Harry had ever seen. Long, sleek, the handle end tapering to a point like a unicorn horn; made of some kind of reddish-brown wood, glossy and lustrous in the candlelight.

"The broom of the element of fire, called 'Inferno'," announced the auctioneer, and Harry could see everyone practically drooling as the woman turned it slightly so people could see 'Inferno' engraved on its side in gold, along with flame. "Capable of flying from nought to three-hundred and ten miles per hour within two seconds, along with in-built cushioning, alarm, security, anti-jinx, cooling, warming, braking..."

The bidding started immediately after the dozens of charms had been listed, and just the first broom took forty minutes to sell; finally one of the American teams bought it for more than a hundred and twenty thousand Galleons.

Next was Stonehandle, the Earth broom, made of a grey wood, specially made for flying close to the ground; Hurricane the Air broom, a beautiful white covering on it and 'one of the fastest'. Each took more than half an hour to sell, and ended up at more than Inferno had sold for.

Tsunami the Water broom and Heavenhigh the Celestial broom were also sold; Harry was disappointed at this, because he fell in love with Heavenhigh the moment he saw it, but was outbidded by some millionaire celebrity, as he decided he was unwilling to pay more than half a million Galleons for it - it was the most expensive so far.

Inexistence, a black Void broom, narrow and strangely beautiful, also reached nearly half a million Galleons; it was the partner to Heavenhigh. The next two brooms were also a pair - Black Ebony the Darkness broom, and White Ivory, the Light broom. They were both snapped up by the same woman, which caused much annoyance.

So far, Harry had only attempted to buy two (Heavenhigh and Inexistence) and had failed both times, though unfortunately he had also been noticed by the reporters now. He didn't bid for the next one; Leafcutter the Plant broom, but he did attempt to buy Stratosphere - Weather - and nearly succeeded. At the last moment, however, there was a surprise bid of a million Galleons, a new record for prices of the brooms, and Harry let it go.

"I'm going to buy one of them, if it costs me everything I've got," he growled to Levina, after Songscore (Music) went by for another extravagant price.

"Well, there's only two left; Lightning and Magic," Levina reminded him quietly. Harry rubbed his scar.

"Maybe I should buy Lightning," he muttered, and Levina shrugged.

"Just remember, they're probably saving the best 'til last. I'd say you should wait for the final one, when most of the people who are serious about owning one have already given up most of their money."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, decided to buy the final one, whether it was Lightning or Magic. It was now ten fifty pm, past what had been expected, as Thunderbolt the Lightning broom was brought out. This sold for just over twenty-thousand Galleons, and Harry realised that Levina was right; the really rich people who hadn't bought brooms had now run out - it was mostly reporters, gawkers and publicity-seekers left.

Finally, the broom Harry was determined to buy was revealed.

The Magic broomstick came in a case of slick black wood, lined with black silk and inset with silver clasps and handles. The broomstick itself was black, the same kind of wood, and with the name 'Magecraft' engraved into it and set with silver, as well a silver pentagram.

It was breath-taking.

Levina was right; they had saved the best 'til last. It was speedier than Hurricane (the previous fastest), more beautiful than Heavenhigh and Celestial put together, with more spells and enchantments on it than any of the others - it was the Magic broom after all, and even its wood was made from a magical tree, called Winterpalm.

As soon as the starting price of the broom was announced as four thousand Galleons, Harry raised his hand.

A few minutes of bidding back and forth pushed the price up to fifty-thousand, which meant that in Harry's opinion, the price was beginning to get serious.

The auctioneer belted out increases, and each time someone raised their hand.

Sixty thousand-seventy thousand-eighty thousand-ninety thousand-a hundred thousand-a hundred and ten thousand- As the price finally reached three-hundred Galleons, Harry began to grow worried. The bidding was now consigned to just him and two others, and they looked quite set on winning.

Luckily, this wasn't the case; as the bidding reached four-hundred thousand, one of the others gave up. Now it was just Harry against a man of about thirty; his eyes were a strange steel-grey and his short, neat hair was dark brown. There was something strange about him, but Harry couldn't quite place what - it was something inhuman.

Hiding a shiver, Harry challenged the man's latest bid, increasing the bid to six-hundred thousand Galleons. If he won, this was certainly going to put a dent into his bank account.

There was a lot of muttering and scratching of quills over by the reporters; it seemed that no-one expected Harry Potter to have quite this amount of money. Hiding a smile, Harry kept bidding, hoping it would end soon. They were now up to seven-hundred thousand, and now that Harry thought about it, he realised that he didn't recall the man bidding for any of the other brooms. What was so special about this one? Or did he just want to take one of them home, now that he had seen the rest?

Thankfully, as the bids increased, the man looked less and less sure of himself. As the auctioneer called out for a bid of eight-hundred and ten thousand Galleons, the man didn't raise his hand but instead slumped back in his seat and shook his head, looking furious - with himself or Harry, the boy wasn't sure.

"Going once... going twice... sold to Mr Potter, for eight-hundred thousand Galleons," the auctioneer announced, bringing his gavel down on the desk. "That concludes the auctioning of the 'Elemental Riders' broomsticks."

After the staff set about thanking everyone, and the buyers were led off to shake Ellerby and Spudmore's hands, they collected the cases containing the brooms. "That was about two-million pounds you just spent," Levina noted. "I hope it was worth it."

Harry grinned. "If I can win the Quidditch Cup, it is."

--------------------------

The next morning, the Daily Prophet was the magazine everyone was reading and speculating over at the breakfast table. The Elemental Riders' release had merited not only four pages on the brooms (including the front page), but the making of today's newspaper into a 'Broomstick Special' - or in other words, sticking such useless stuff as history of flight in the middle pages, and calling it 'news'.

All the buyers had been named which meant that the moment Harry entered the hall, there was absolute silence before a loud outburst from the tables. As Harry was nearly crushed in the onslaught of people leaping up to ask him where he got that much money, Ron and Hermione grabbed one of his arms each, and pulled him out and up the stairs.

"Thanks!" Harry gasped, managing to shake their hands off him and dust himself down. "Bloody hell, it was only two million quid!"

Ron stared at him as if he were insane. "Great. Mr Millionaire here's already forgotten what it's like for us poverty-stricken masses. Hello, Harry? I've never seen that amount of money in my life!"

Harry frowned. "Oh yeah."

"I think you'd better go back to having a House-Elf bring your breakfast up so that you don't get mobbed again," Hermione suggested, and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Inciting House-Elf slavery, now 'Mione?"

Hermione slapped his arm and mock-scowled. "How funny. If it means everyone else can eat their breakfast in peace, I'm sure it's worth it. Now come on, we can all eat in the kitchens for today - otherwise Ron and I will be swamped with 'did you know Harry was so rich?', 'have you seen the broom?', 'can I have some money?'."

Ron sniggered. "Good accent, 'Mione."

The girl frowned. "I didn't change my accent."

"Oh."

--------------------------

There was Quidditch practice that evening, after Potions; most of the team moaned and groaned about it, but Harry and Ron weren't that worried - they didn't need much time for revision, thanks to the rods, and as the days passed the temperature was getting a lot better. It was now warm enough to walk around outside without coats, something many were taking advantage of.

Hagrid's hut stood on the grounds, spick-and-span even though Hagrid and Olympe were now living in the castle itself, and Harry couldn't help but wonder as they passed by on their way to the Quidditch pitch what would happen to it. "I mean," he explained to Ron, "are they going to get a new groundskeeper now that Hagrid's a teacher? Now he's married, he won't have a lot of time for both jobs."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry, you worry too much. It's nothing to do with us, so don't concern yourself with it."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I know... but all the same, it would be really weird if there were to be another groundskeeper living there. I mean - every time I look out of the window, I keep thinking 'I wonder why Hagrid hasn't turned his light on', and then I remember he doesn't live there any more. It's just strange."

Ron screwed his face up. "No mate; you're strange."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

--------------------------

The would-be History and Magical Languages lessons on Friday, Harry filled with the company of just his laptop, fighting the urge to go outside and test Magecraft. Even the previous day at Quidditch practice, he had used his Firebolt; 'I want to win a game on this before I use my new one,' he told the team. 'My Firebolts final flight and victory'. For now, the Magecraft lay unopened and untouched in his trunk.

Instead, Harry spent his free time not only revising amulet creation and wards, but also preparing for the training that night; the start of his staff-fighting. Atlanteans had been the ones to introduce the style to Britain, although by the time non-part-Atlanteans started teaching the British, it had been corrupted. Levina, having learned the pure-form, was going to be teaching him the original, faster and more powerful version - and luckily she had put many of the moves in the laptops databanks.

Harry now had the knowledge of the basic moves, but until he actually practised them, he wouldn't be able to move on to the harder ones. It certainly was a brutal fighting method; jabs to the foot, smashing the skull, cracking the ribs - Harry felt a little guilty when he realised he was going to really enjoy it.

He did.

When he turned up for the lessons in the Room of Requirement, he immediately had to grab the eight-foot staff that Levina tossed him. "I thought they were meant to be two feet taller than the person using them, or something?"

Levina snorted. "Oh, yes, if you want to use the mangled, deformed version, instead of the honourable, traditional, correct way."

"This'll be fine," Harry muttered, before looking the staff over. It was made of strong, slightly flexible oak, and was slightly pointed at the ends. Good for jabbing, he supposed. Levina picked up her own - nine foot tall, Harry was horrified to see - and took her starting position; one foot closer to Harry as though stepping forwards, hands placed so that there was only a quarter of the staff between them, and at a slant across her body.

There was no fighting, Harry was glad to see. Instead, she started performing the basic moves, and Harry mimicked her. How to bring the staff up to block a head-shot, how to let go of the staff and grab it further down while leaping forwards to deliver a blow to the skull, how to lean forwards and bring the staff up only to bring it down on the foot, how to twist the body to deliver a strike to break the anklebone; Harry knew he shouldn't, but he loved every minute.

By the time he had showered and crawled into bed, he was so exhausted that he didn't believe even an Oxtamed could do the trick. Luckily, it did - he had to be up for Astronomy in an hour.

--------------------------

In Quidditch on Monday, Ravenclaw managed to thrash Hufflepuff; the next Monday however, they had lost their lead when Slytherin managed to beat them in the match by sixty points. Draco Malfoy, the Seeker, had been replaced by a sixth-year girl, who was amazingly fast and agile - Harry could see that she'd be more of a challenge than Malfoy, but with his exercises and training, she'd still be no match for him.

The next game would be Slytherin versus Gryffindor, on the eighteenth of February, and if Gryffindor won, it would be the final flight of the Firebolt. Well, Harry's Firebolt, anyway.

The Saturday after, Harry managed to spill a bottle of ink over his Transfiguration homework when Colin Creevey surprised him by hurtling through the door screaming his name.

"What?" Harry snapped, glad he'd used the rods to memorise 'A Tome of Charms', which contained plenty of cleaning spells.

Colin gasped for breath, clutching a stitch in his side. "Professor... Snape... says he... wants to... see you... right... now." he wheezed out. Harry immediately knew why. By now, the Canusabeo potion would be fully made.

Harry swiftly cleaned the ink up with a flick of his wand, shoved his work into his bag and headed for the door. "I might be a while," he told Ron and Hermione as they looked up in surprise. "Canusabeo," he mouthed, and watched as the realisation lit up their faces. Ron gave him a thumbs-up for good luck, and Harry left.

In the dungeons, Snape and another man stood waiting for Harry. Snape didn't bother with greetings, but was his usual impatient self. "This is the type of potion that works immediately," he scowled as Harry entered, "so we won't have to wait for any amount of time. This is Mr Barracks, who was bitten a few years ago -"

Barracks, about thirty years old, nodded cheerfully to Harry.

"- and he'll be our test subject. As soon as he's taken a sip, we'll test him for lycanthropy. If it comes up negative, we'll send the instructions and a batch of the potion to St Mungoes, where they'll run their own tests to check it works and other possibilities - whether it can be used for other were-creatures, whether ex-werewolves can still pass it on, whether the brewing time can be shortened, whether they're still hurt by silver - that sort of thing."

With that, Snape brought out from one of the many alcoves a vial of a strange opalescent liquid. Barracks stood up a little straighter, looking quite excited. And why shouldn't he, Harry mused. After all, the man had been forced to cope with going through a hideously painful transformation every month for the past few years, and now there was a chance he was going to be cured. Actually, more of a certainty than a chance; after all, if it didn't work, than the potion wouldn't have been on the laptops databanks.

Snape pulled the small cork out of the vial and passed it to Barracks. As he took it and raised it to his lips, Harry and Snape edged slightly closer, peering intently and eagerly.

Barracks drank it.

There was no reaction (apart from his looking quite repulsed - obviously it didn't taste very nice). There were no sparks, no cries of pain, and no shifting flesh. Barracks simply drained the small vial, lowered it, and looked at them expectantly. "Tastes like grass," he grinned, making Harry smile.

Snape didn't look very happy. He must have been expecting a reaction of some kind, and was obviously disappointed by the lack of it. Still, he brought his wand out of his robes pocket and muttered 'revelo lycanthrope'. He quickly brought it up to point at Barracks -

And the wand didn't do anything either.

Snape looked shocked. He repeated the spell, and Harry's and Barracks' grins grew wider. The spell was meant to make the tip of the wand light up when pointed at someone with lycanthropy, and it wasn't lighting up.

After Snape tried a third time and nothing happened, he gave in.

"It works," he said, and Harry wasn't surprised.

--------------------------

After that, Harry was kicked out of the dungeons while Snape went over a few more tests with the ex-werewolf; prodding him with silver cutlery, in all probability. Harry knew all he'd find was that Barracks reacted like an uninfected human being to anything Snape threw at him. Hm. It would be great if he were allowed to enter the Canusabeo for his Potions or Spell Creation exam.

"You probably could," Levina told when he stayed behind to talk with her after Divination the next day. "Although you'd only be allowed to enter it in one of them, so you'd have to decide which one. Oh," she added, "and you're going to be making your sword in September. I'm afraid a few things have come up, I have to sort other things out, and I'm a bit behind. I think it's because I have less time now I became a teacher."

"Yes, a lot of people find that taking a job keeps them busy," Harry commented and easily dodged a hit. "How's the unicorn doing?"

"Fine, fine." Levina sighed. "It's growing so quickly. It won't be long before- anyway, it's healthy and-"

"What? Won't be long before what?"

Levina scowled. "Never you mind. Shouldn't you be going to get ready for Animagus lessons?"

Harry pretended not to notice the abrupt change of subject. "Nah. Now I've got my license to become a lion, and everyone knows it, I can hardly keep going to lessons to learn the rest of the forms. I want to keep my Annumagus abilities a secret, so Voldie and the Dark don't know what's gonna hit 'em. I know how to do it, so as long as I tell McGonagall whenever I've perfected a form, she's happy."

Levina perked up. "How many have you done so far?"

Harry flushed a little. "Not many," he admitted, "I've been so busy with rods, and training, and revision; and then there's been Quidditch, exercising, my friends, chatting with the other Techno-Magi, and my website - well, I haven't had much time. All I've done so far is the cobra, lion and Kneazle. I can't even do the shark, sea-serpent-thing or Hippocampus unless I'm underwater anyway."

Levina nodded. "Mm. I suggest you start practising some of the bigger, more dangerous forms, like the Basilisk. It's all very well having a couple of small forms like the Kneazle, but you might need a bigger form for fighting in."

"Well, Hermione's nearly perfected her swan, and Ron's a wolf, and they're not complaining about their forms," Harry snorted. Levina scoffed.

"Well, they're not being hunted by a bunch of dark nutcases are they?"

"Good point," Harry admitted. "Fine, I'll try the Basilisk next." He sighed. "You know, I really wish I was allowed to tell everyone about being an Annumagus; I can't turn into any of them for a bit of fun, because it's illegal without a license."

"Well, technically you have an Animagus license, even if it's only for a lion." Levina pointed out, taking the next essay to mark. "Anyway, go research hacking or something; you wouldn't believe the work-load I've got to get through."

--------------------------

There was a young unicorn. It lay on its side in Thetford Forest, flanks heaving, eyes rolling, tongue lolling. It was in pain. Its blood was pounding, heavy in its vein. A fly scuttled across its nose. Its gold fur, shifting to patches of silver, was matted with sweat and blood. Long slits, like those made by knives, slashed across its back and sides.

It wouldn't be long now. 

-------------------------- -------------------------- -------------------------- -------------------------- --------------------------

_Continuity error corrected in chapter 14._


	18. Chapter 18: Tsunami

Chapter 18: Tsunami 

"Have you servants out in the heavens?" - Out of the Silent Planet

--------------------------

Monday the eighteenth of February. Judgement Day. Or Quidditch, which was similar.

Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and the first proper for seventh-year Emma McPollet, the new Gryffindor Keeper. "You'll be fine," Angelina reassured her, as the Keeper clutched her broom, trembling. Angelina was the new captain, and had been so since the previous week.

Harry himself was finishing cleaning his Firebolt, determined that he was going to win, and look good doing it. It would be nice if he executed everything perfectly, like with his memory-loss at the Swedish Broom Race, but he doubted (hoped not, anyway) that it would happen again.

He fingered his Y'Laagrondd pendant for good luck, though he wasn't quite sure why - a mythical figure was hardly going to swoop down and help him out with a game, after all.

Outside, Dean finished announcing the Slytherin players, and the doors burst open to allow the Gryffindors to fly out. Harry leapt on his broom the second the sunlight hit him, and was out before the other members of the team to take his position and size up Malfoy's replacement.

He didn't hear Dean announce the Gryffindor team; he was too busy plotting his moves. The opposing Seeker (Cerys Reed) was flying a Firebolt as well, but she seemed a little shaky on it - she was obviously new to it. Harry raised a hand to block the sunlight from his eyes (damn, but it was bright today) and eased his broom a little higher, looking for the Snitch which had already been released.

Dean finished the countdown, and Madam Hooch flipped the straps that restrained the Bludgers. The huge balls immediately blasted out and swept around, aiming for the new Slytherin Chaser, who was closest. Before he could react, Hooch blew the whistle to signal the start of the game, and tossed the Quaffle high into the air.

Harry was off like a shot; higher into the air and further away from the Bludgers. A glance at Reed told him that she also was looking for the Snitch, and he turned his attentions back to the game. Gryffindor scored, thanks to one of the Slytherin Chasers being chased by a Bludger; the other Bludger had just been beat back from Katie Bell by one of the twins.

Harry drifted a little further from his opponent, and scanned downwards, where he had a wider view. The Snitch wasn't below him, that was for certain, and if he slowly turned his broom, he could see that it wasn't anywhere up his end of the pitch.

A glint of gold!

Harry's heart gave a jump - but it was just Flint's watch. Hm, that was surprising - Harry was quite astonished that Flint could tell the time. This was the boy who'd been held back for two years, after all.

Calming himself from the initial adrenaline burst, Harry sneaked another look at Reed. She was squinting at a fixed point up the other end of the pitch, and Harry followed her gaze with his own. There, hovering like a hummingbird, was the Golden Snitch - unnoticeable but the for the gleam off its metal body.

It flicked from left to right suddenly, and Harry knew it would fly off at any second. Not looking when the crowd roared as Slytherin scored for the third time, Harry crept forwards slightly, and suddenly sped forwards, hoping that Reed wasn't as good a flyer as he.

She wasn't.

As soon as she saw Harry race off, Reed realised that she hadn't been imagining things, and she tried desperately to catch up with him. Harry grinned as he slowed slightly, allowing himself enough time to work out which way the Snitch would go.

It looked like the Resistance's plan 'get of a better challenge for Potter' hadn't worked; they'd have done better to make sure Reed was going to stick to her original broom, rather than one she was unfamiliar with, even if it was the best on the market - excluding the Riders, of course.

The Snitch, Harry saw, was quivering slightly, and he knew from experience that it meant it was going to move up and to the left. Swinging his broom slightly in that direction, he risked a look back. Reed was catching up (cheers from the Gryffindors as Alicia scored another goal) so he sped up.

Wetting his lips, Harry crouched lower to decrease the air resistant, and then swung off completely, blocking Reed and forcing her to slow, and heading straight into the Snitch's flight-path. Harry flung his arm out, and as he did so, he caught a glimpse of the scoreboards.

Gryffindor, 120 points. Slytherin, 270 points.

As his fingers closed around the Snitch, Harry lost all his senses but for the feel and sight of the Golden Snitch, as he realised that he'd just forfeited the game by getting a draw.

--------------------------

Harry snapped out of his daze when he felt someone shaking his shoulder. Looking up from the ball clutched in his hand, he realised it was a beaming Twin.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, and Twin Number 1 stared at him as if he were mad.

"Sorry? What for, you pillock? You just won us the game!"

Harry looked at him in shock, panicking that he had once again lost his memory. "But - we tied! Slytherin was a hundred and sixty points ahead of us when I caught the Snitch!"

Fred or George snorted. "It was, about two seconds before. Angelina scored a goal just as you touched the Snitch, and Madam Hooch said that because you weren't properly gripping it just then, the goal counted. Weren't you listening?"

Harry shook his head, numb with excitement. "You mean we won? We beat Slytherin?"

The boy grinned, nodding. "That's right. Now get your feet back on the ground - there's a party in Gryffindor Tower, and we can't celebrate without the Seeker!"

Harry could do nothing but beam in relief. "I'll be right up," he promised, allowing the Firebolt to plummet towards the ground, whereupon he braked just seconds before hitting the pitch. He patted the handle proudly. "That was the final flight of the Firebolt," he informed Whichever-Twin-It-Was. "I'm going to be using Magecraft from now on."

"Good," said the twin. "Maybe you'll finally let us see it, now?"

Harry thought about it. "Maybe, if you're very good." he joked.

"Thanks." the teen muttered sarcastically.

--------------------------

As part of the celebrations, Harry was only too happy to bring the Magecraft out for the Gryffindors to see.

He displayed with as much flair and drama as he could, opening the case just a fraction and then asking whether people were sure they wanted to see it; making sure it was held at the right angle for the silver inlay to catch the rays of sunlight which streamed through the window; even going so far as to list the enchantments on the broom (its many features were detailed on the certificate of authenticity that came with it).

There was so much sighing and gasping, it could have powered an entire wind farm.

The slim, sleek, black wood, the precisely five-hundred black twigs of five separate lengths and thickness (each hand-picked to catch the wind perfectly and not be overbalanced or blown off course), the smooth cut of the seat, the glinting, real, pure silver which told the name and the pentagram...

Capable of flying from nought to twelve-hundred miles per hour within three seconds (and with all the charms needed to make this speed safe) - cushioning charms - alarms - security hexes - anti-jinx - cooling and warming spells - unbreakable braking charms - water, dirt and lightning-repelling - tracking charms - self-straightening and cleaning twigs - there were a hundred more spells and characteristics listed, quite a few of which Harry had never even heard of. Two million pounds, but it was worth every penny.

The rest of the party, Harry was quite disappointed with; people were enthusiastic, the music was great - but the food (courtesy of the twins and Lee Jordan) looked so tempting that Harry had to keep reminding himself he was to eat only 'healthy, nutritious' food as Levina had put it just two days ago when she had re-hammered it into his head.

Harry made his excuses and sneaked up to the dormitory, making a face when the House Elves brought up a salad containing leeks - Harry wasn't particularly fond of them, and personally would have preferred a pizza. He'd never actually had one, but he'd seen plenty of Dudley's, and they looked pretty appetising.

He chatted to Rhiannon for a while - apparently the Chinese apprentice had finished his Intermediate training and had his own laptop now, which he had been on earlier. Harry felt a little guilty; he hadn't actually been working on learning Techno-Magic for a while now, instead choosing to simply learn about fighting for Levina's lessons - he hadn't even reached past the Beginner stage.

To make up for a bit of lost time, Harry opened the Learnings program and selected several languages (French, Troll, German and Italian) to put on to the rod and learn. After that, Harry spent a little time on the Internet, before this reminded him to perfect his hacking skills - he cleared the rod and filled it to the brim with information on hacking, tracing, bugging, viruses, security and various computer languages.

For a bit of fun, he tested his new skills by hacking into the President of America's e-mail account, and briefly considered signing him up to - ahem - unsuitable websites. Thankfully for the President, there was a knock at the door at that moment, and the leader of the USA was saved a great deal of embarrassment and confusion.

Harry quickly switched the laptop off just as Ron entered, shoved it under the pillow, and drew back the curtains in time to see the red-haired adolescent heading over to his own bed. When Ron noticed Harry was there, he tossed him a Chocolate Frog which Harry recognised as one he had been trying to get for a while.

"Are you going to Amulet Making?" Ron queried, and Harry checked his watch. It was five o'clock.

"No - it's cancelled today, because of the Quidditch. They expected the match to go on longer." Harry yawned, and started reading the Chocolate Frog card. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I'm really, really, really, really, really,_ really_ bored."

Ron was silent for a moment. "Me too."

There was another minute of silence.

"You could take Magecraft out for a test flight," Ron suggested, but Harry shook his head.

"I don't feel like flying right now. I want to do something... exciting. Dangerous."

"Want to go fight a daemon?"

Harry looked at him witheringly. "You know what I mean. I'm just really bored, and all this revision and training is stressing me out. I can't even eat the stuff I want to!"

Ron nodded pityingly. "See now, that's why you should never 'ave agreed to this stupid diet-thing in the first place. Salads? No chocolate? It's just not natural," he sighed, shaking his head.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I think you'll find it's the 'eating salads' that's natural, and not the chocolate. Obviously we didn't evolve for the purpose of harvesting cacao beans, and nor for the reason of prod-"

Ron held his hands up in mock panic. "Okay, okay! I get the point, you don't need to talk my ears off. You're turning into bleedin' Hermione, you know that?"

Harry sighed as he threw the card onto his desk. "Sorry. It's just I really am bored."

Ron smirked. "Well, there's an easy way to stop that, isn't there?"

Harry frowned at him. "What?"

His friend's smile widened. "Animagi forms! We can head out, explore the Forbidden Forest - don't you think it would be fun?"

Harry snorted. "Er, yeah, great idea except for a couple of things. First of all, the Forest is full of Acromantulas, which I thought you didn't like. Secondly, you haven't got an Animagus license. And thirdly, perhaps the most important of all - you still can't transform completely!"

Ron scoffed and waved his hand as if this was a trifling matter. "I've been practising changing in private, and I think I've just about got it now. As for the license - well, are you going to tell? Besides, if we see an Acromantula, we'll just run for it."

"What about Burningshoot? Or any number of poisonous plants out there? We can run from animals, but if we wander into some kind of strangling vine before we realise our mistake, we're done for!"

Ron looked at him pointedly. "Then we won't go too far in. Harry," he said, now pleading, "Come on! Let's do it! You can take Ajax in case anything does happen - which I doubt - and you could try out your other forms, your unlicensed ones. It's not like anyone's going to know."

Harry gave in to temptation.

--------------------------

"Remind me why I'm going along with this" Harry muttered just loud enough for Ron to hear.

His friend grinned. "Because you can be amazingly weak-willed when you want. Now," he said, motioning to the edge of the Forest, just several feet away, "let's change and head inside! If you need to talk to me, use Telepathy - don't forget, I can't use it myself, so don't ask any open-ended questions. Ready?"

Harry nodded. "If something goes wrong," he warned, "I'm blaming you."

Ron rolled his eyes in amusement and started to transform into his wolf form; Harry followed suit with his lion. Even though he started afterwards, he was first to finish - he had more experience of it, and Ron still hadn't quite perfected it enough to make the shifts swift.

A waning Moon hung overhead, in a black sky free of clouds, yet strangely almost devoid of stars; it seemed an almost mesmerising sight, and Harry was loathe to disappear into the Forest. He did so, however, his keen senses picking up every prey animal, and the red-brown wolf that loped beside him, barely visible to human sight.

They ran for some minutes, not communicating but simply enjoying the thrill of the speed at which they went, the rush of air through their fur, the sounds of the nocturnal birds and the small animals which froze or fled as they approached. Finally though, they slowed to a halt as Harry caught the smell of something, and Ron shot Harry a look of obvious confusion. Harry shifted back to human form, motioning for Ron to follow suit.

"There's a strange smell up ahead," Harry whispered, hoping there were no Acromantulas around to hear him. "It doesn't smell natural - I think it's some kind of magical creature."

Ron gulped. "Oh, great. My wolf senses aren't as good as yours - what do you think it is?"

Harry sighed. "Well, it smells quite big - quite old though, so it probably won't be there, but if up ahead is it's lair or something, it might come back. I just thought you'd want a warning."

Ron looked up. "Well, Ajax doesn't seem to be too worried," he smiled. The magpie flew in circles overhead, watching out for any danger. He hadn't been impressed when Harry had muttered the night's plans to him, but he hadn't been able to talk sense into the boy, and so had been forced to follow along.

Harry nodded that Ron had a point, and shifted back, as did Ron. They progressed forwards slowly, until they reached the edge of the trees, the already-weak smell becoming slightly stronger. Suddenly, Harry realised what it was, and ran forwards faster, Ron following.

They hurtled into a clearing.

It was the same one.

Harry had changed back before he even knew what he was doing, and blurted out, "This is it!"

"This is what?" grumbled Ron, but Harry still heard him and swung around.

"This is it! The clearing that Leone held me in! That unnatural smell - it isn't an Acromantula, it's the daemon. Look - there's the rock I was tied to, with the holes - and that's where Leone started chanting -" He looked around, mentally pointing out even places; where his wand had dropped, where the candles were placed...

"Really nice," Ron joked, raising an eyebrow. "You know mate, most people would prefer not to remember."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks." He suddenly perked up. "Hey, do you think Leone might have hidden the Myrrh Cage around here?"

Ron looked thoughtful. "You know, it's just possible. I mean, sure, the Aurors would have checked around, but they wouldn't have been looking for anything in particular... why, you think we should take a look?"

"It wouldn't hurt to try," Harry shrugged, and Ron sighed.

"Fine. I guess we can kiss goodbye to our night of exploration. Come on then - where first?" he asked sarcastically. "Not as though there's many places to look."

Harry frowned. "She might have buried it a few inches down; she could have put it just outside the clearing, or stuffed it in a drey or nest or something..."

Now it was Ron's turn to frown. "Maybe, but what if she's already been back here and taken it?"

Harry shrugged. "If no-one had found it up until now, why find a new place?"

Ron acquiesced with this point, so for the next few minutes there were no words spoken. Instead, the pair searched in the long grass, peered up low branches, dug up an inch of soil that looked as though it had recently been replaced (it hadn't), and then finally found something.

"Harry! Over here!"

Harry twisted around, trying to wipe some rabbit droppings off his robe in disgust, before his eyes narrowed. "What's that?"

Ron snorted irritably. "I didn't know you were blind, mate." He held the object up so the other boy could see. "It's a chain. Looks a bit like silver." he commented, grinning. "I don't think we're going to find the Cage anywhere around here, mate - this is the only thing that Leone must have dropped, and we have to get back to school, anyway."

Harry sighed. "Fine, you win. We'll head back."

Ron shoved the silver-like chain into his pocket and followed Harry's transformation into his own Animagus form. His own change was slower and jerkier than Harry's, but it ended up well enough, and the pair followed their barely-old scent back out of the Forest.

--------------------------

Draco Malfoy bowed low into the grass, eyes lowered in reverence. His master, Lord Voldemort frowned at him with ruby, serpentine eyes. "Are you certain that you will be able to take a responsibility of such magnitude upon yourself?" he hissed, gesturing to the boy with one long, stark-white finger.

Malfoy smirked. "I'm certain, my Lord." he promised, not just to his master but to himself - Harry Potter would be dead before his next birthday, and it served the little idiot right for trusting him. Even if his father was a traitor to the Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy wouldn't be; too much power could be gained from absolute loyalty to be wasted.

--------------------------

Nothing much happened the next day: there was Herbology (Neville showed some of his old clumsiness and ended up being nipped by a Noxious Scurburret, a relative of the Venomous Tentacula), Potions (Snape quietly informed Harry that the Canusabeo had been sent off to St Mungo's for official tests), and Divination (where after class, Levina was only too happy to shove a huge pile of books in Harry's arms and tell him to be done with them by the weekend).

There was barely enough time for homework before Hermione and Ron bid goodbye to go to Animagus lessons - Harry wasn't able to practice his other forms, as the other students would then easily find out he had more than one - and this left time for the Boy-Who-Lived to finish off his homework and begin the arduous task of scanning 'High-Energy Rituals' into the rod.

Wednesday was of even less importance, and so it continued until Saturday the second of March. Harry had finally managed to convince himself that things were becoming normal, and it certainly seemed that way.

Revision had suddenly increased and students were more and more stressed thanks to the exams which came in just over four months, and Voldemort, Leone and her daemon, and Dark Wizard activity had seemed to drop off the face of the Earth. Ron was slightly more pessimistic when Harry pointed this out ("We're due," he had said mournfully), but Harry was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

He had progressed quite well in staff-fighting, memorised large chunks of Techno-Magic from the laptop, and was now impatiently waiting for September, when he would finally make his own sword - quite different from just a few months ago, when he had been dreading the day.

Levina had been, admittedly, acting rather oddly; she had even gone so far as to cancel one of their midnight meetings with barely any warning, which was certainly strange; but after all, she had told Harry that she had been busy lately. In the run-up to exams, she would of course have much more work to mark - but all the same, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else.

This Saturday, however, the meeting hadn't been cancelled, and so Harry found himself creeping down the school corridors again, wishing (for the thousandth time) he had the Marauders Map with him. "_Tonur amast carnaena_," he whispered, tapping the wall with his wand to show the door. As it appeared, he pushed it open and slipped inside.

He and Levina sparred for a while, but his heart wasn't in it, and after a solid whack on his shoulder from a hit he should have easily blocked, Levina called it a night.

"Something wrong?" she asked outright. "I left my right side completely open, and you didn't even notice."

Harry scowled at her, and thrust his quarter-staff back into her open hand. "I'd fed up with being lied to and having important information kept from me, that's what's wrong," he snapped. "I've been waiting, just like you and Ajax tell me to, and what happens? No-one bloody well explains anything, that's what!"

Levina looked at his bared teeth for a moment, before sighing. "I suppose we have been a little unfair."

"A little?!" Harry exploded, eyes widened and bulging, "A little?! You just expect me to defeat the Five or the Dark or whatever their new name is, and you can't be arsed to tell me anything about myself, let alone them!"

She held up her hands to ward the boy's rage off. "Fine! What do you want to know?"

"What's up with that dragon around Gryffindor Tower," Harry said immediately, counting on his fingers. "Why I lost my memory at the Race. What was up with the feather Diana Genevieve took from Monty - the magpie I made Ajax from. Why symbols keep appearing on the back of my Y'Laagrondd pendant. What was with the dragon that saved me from the daemon in the first place. What's Techno-Magic. Where and why were you sealed away. Why do I have two gifts, when there's supposed to be a limit of one. Why can I change into magical animals." He stopped at number nine and thought for a moment. "That's about it," he muttered, still flushed with anger.

Levina gave another heartfelt sigh, and motioned to one of the benches along a wall. "Sit down," she said.

Harry did so while she put the staffs away and came back to sit beside him. He felt a little calmer now, but he still wasn't exactly the happiest boy in Hogwarts.

Levina cleared her throat and began. "I'm not going to tell you everything," she warned, "There's a lot that you have to find out for yourself, or be told by others, but I'll tell you what I can - I'll tell you the right answers, and then you can work out whether you asked me the right questions.

"The dragon around Gryffindor Tower was the same one that protected you from the daemon. I honestly don't know why it went that close to the Tower, but I know it hurt the daemon not by chance but because it was trying to protect you. The memory loss at the Race? That's connected to it. I can't say much about those, but I can say some more about the other questions.

"The feather Diana took. That's quite simple; the Dark had already suspected you were the Phoenix; they already knew that 'the Magpie' was your Familiar rather than someone's nick-name - maybe a Seer found out, maybe it was research, I don't know. But there was a way to test whether you were the Phoenix.

"They went to a place where they knew there would be both you and a Phoenix; the Quidditch match - and put one Heck of a complicated spell on the magpie. It's called the 'Carnun am s'pennon elé gail', or 'Enchantment of the foretold names linked'. Basically, if two or more people or objects that are named in the same prophecy are within a certain range, they'll be attracted to each other. So, the Magpie and the Phoenix went to each other; the magpie was so dumb he couldn't resist going all the way over to you - Diana probably masked it with an illusion so as not to create a scene - and you, being smarter, could mostly resist; all you did was take a feather."

Harry was frowning in thought. "But why did Diana take a feather?"

Levina shrugged. "Probably so that if the Magpie was made from the DNA of the magpie at the game, she would have a sample of the DNA, just in case she could use some kind of spell to hurt the Magpie through the feather, She won't be able to," Levina added hastily, seeing Harry's worried face, "Ajax is white, isn't he? The Familiar spell changed the DNA that was used in the feather you used."

Harry relaxed. "Well, that's one mystery solved. What about my pendant?"

Levina reached a hand out for it, so he unclipped it and gave it to her. She studied the back for a second. "These are Atlantean runes," she noted. "They say 'Verae Tupris am', which translates roughly to 'Blessed Majesty of'."

"Of what?" Harry encouraged. Levina raised an eyebrow.

"How should I know? You said these were appearing, so it obviously hasn't finished. Before you ask, no, I have no idea why they're appearing. However, I have a fairly good idea of what it's going to say by the time it's finished."

Harry perked up. "What?"

"Well, as I said, I'm not certain - but Y'Laagrondd was the Empress of the Dragons. In myth, the dragons had their own land called Mirimin. You know how Japan is also called, the Land of the Rising Sun? Well, Mirimin was called the Great Kingdom, which meant that Y'Laagrondd was the 'Blessed Majesty of the Great Kingdom' - the 'Verae Tupris am s'Manso Turalla' in Atlantean."

"Y'Laagrondd is Bulgarian, not Atlantean," Harry argued. "I don't see why Atlantean runes would be on the back of a modern Y'Laagrondd pendant."

Levina let out a laugh. "Modern? See the material this pendant is made out of?"

"Marble?"

She released another laugh. "It's not marble! It's alaerin. Formed from pure magic, made solid. The only place that was made was in Atlantis; I'd say it was more likely that it washed up from Atlantis years - maybe millennia - ago, and found it's way to you. Unless someone from Atlantis escaped with it when the islands sank, of course."

Harry opened and shut his mouth in shock. "But - well, it's still a Bulgarian religion. And besides, why would an Atlantean have a Bulgarian Goddess pendant?"

Levina rolled her eyes, and passed the necklace back. "Although some of the gods and goddesses were made by the Bulgarians, most of them came from the Atlantean pantheons. Y'Laagrondd was one of them. It's like all the myths and religious ideas are adopted - how many religions do you think have the story of a baby in a basket, sent down a river in reeds? I mean, the Romans just stole the entire Greek pantheon and changed their names! No, this necklace came from Atlantis - probably one of the priestesses of Y'Laagrondd, seeing how well made it is.

"Anyway, on to your next question. Techno-Magic. Again, I can't really say much; Techno-Magic containers and names take the best form available to them, depending on the technology that's common at the time, and will be least noticeable. If you'd been a Techno-Mage millennia ago, you'd have had a stone tablet rather than a laptop, and a different title. Why did you think the rod went in so easily? The laptop's used to changing shape.

"I developed Techno-Magic, along with Merlin, several magic-users, scientists and researchers. I was the main creator though, having more experience and expertise. At first, the power and knowledge of it was small, giving control over only magic and machines. Now, as technology increases, so does the power of Techno-Magic." She looked at him pointedly. "The laptop promised that you'd know the whole story when you became a full Techno-Mage. I suggest if you want to learn everything, you'd best hurry up and do so.

"I was sealed away because I knew the city was going to fall, and no-one else would be able to survive thousands of years to wait for the Phoenix. I was sealed away in Atlantis so that, when the Phoenix was ready, I could train him in the basic knowledge he would need.

"The number of gifts is because of genetics, and your power. You need to have a power level over certain numbers if you want to have a specific gift, and you have to have the gene. The Past-Reader gift only needs the power of a Magician, so you got that easily enough. The Annumagus ability only came through when the block had been taken down, and you had the power of a Sorcerer.

"As for why you can turn into magical animals - I don't know. Maybe it's because you're the Phoenix, maybe you're just the first person to do so. I really have no idea. And by the way, we've far overstayed our usual time."

And with that, she rose and left through a door she had conjured to her quarters.

--------------------------

By the end of their meeting, Harry really had more questions than he had started out with; and the answers he had got were hardly satisfactory. If there was one thing he had learned, however, it was patience; Levina had hinted more than once - and Ajax had come right out and told him - that all the answers he wanted would be given soon enough.

It was quite a drag for the next few days, however; until Monday evening, of course, when all these thoughts were swept from Harry's mind, thanks to Quidditch.

It was Harry's first time on the Magecraft broom, and he felt the difference the moment he clasped its handle. The Gryffindor team stood waiting in front of the gate that marked the entrance to the pitch, glancing round at each other nervously, or reassuring and encouraging the newer members, for whom it was only their second match.

As the commentator for the match - Lee Jordan - finished announcing the Ravenclaws and moved on to the Gryffindors, the team swung themselves onto their brooms just in time for the gate to shoot open -

And they were off.

Harry lagged behind, knowing that it was customary for the Seeker to enter last; but once the others were out of the tunnel by several metres and his name was announced, Harry moved. The broom moved with the smooth, liquid fluidity of mercury, generating an irresistible slipstream which spun a small whirlwind of fresh leaves as it passed.

It easily outstripped the Gryffindor team, and Harry took particular notice of the Ravenclaw team eyeing Magecraft enviously, and more than a few gasps and murmurs of awe from the crowds, as well as several scowls from the Slytherin seats.

With ease and expert control, Harry relaxed his triceps, nudging the handle to the right and slowing at the same time, bringing the broom to a 180 degee turn and into a flowing, effortless standstill, hands tightening on the glossy grip.

Above the excited whispering - everyone knew just what this broom was worth - someone cheered out "Go Harry!", which the boy recognised as the voice of Daniel Creevey.

Harry snapped back to reality, just as McGonagall stopped Lee ranting enthusiastically about the speed of the Magecraft, and Madam Hooch signalled that the balls were about to be released.

"Keep your eye on the Snitch, Harry!" Angelina roared as she noticed him looking over to his opposing Seeker - Cho Chang, who glared ferociously at him, one oh-so-delicate lip twitching in anger and distaste.

Harry had a feeling that she didn't much like him. Possibly.

Harry nodded his assent to the team captain, and fixed his eyes back on the box of balls that the referee was about to release. The whistle was blown, a sharp, ringing shrill that pierced through the still air, and the restraints were released; the ball were flying free.

Harry fixed his eyes on the Snitch as it shot off, but its speed meant he lost it just a minute later; it didn't much matter, for Chang had lost it too, and it would surely show up in a little while.

He tested his broom instead, slashing lazily through the air, high and low, as he searched for the little golden ball. He was sure he caught sight of it at two points, but the first time it moved off immediately afterwards, and the second time it was too close to Chang to make him risk drawing attention to it.

Just ten minutes into the game, amid cheers and groans as the Quaffle was punched through the hoops, Chang attempted to lead Harry into a Wronski Feint - Harry wasn't fooled for a second however, because just as Cho went barrelling off up towards the Hufflepuff seats, Harry spotted the real Snitch - straight below him, hovering just above the ground.

There was no time for thinking; the little ball was already slowly starting to rise, and he knew that in just a few seconds it would be gone completely. 'Right,' Harry decided, forcing the handle straight down, which lifted the tail end and meant he was hurtling towards the grass, 'I'm about a hundred and fifty feet up right now. Let's see whether this thing's speed was exaggerated.'

And with that, he fell.

There was one chance. To pull up just before he hit the ground and fly horizontally just above the ground, leaning back enough to snatch the Snitch just before he changed direction - as long as he didn't fall off, or the Snitch didn't dart away.

If he didn't pull up in time, not only would he not catch the Snitch, but he would probably hit the hard, hard, ground at (who knows what speed?), shatter his multi-million Galleon broom into an irreparable mess, and likely as not turn himself into a sloppy, meaty mush that would have to be scooped up before being dripped into a coffin.

'I'm an idiot', Harry thought calmly, before he jerked the handle up, feeling the strain in his arm muscles as he tugged it to right itself. As it snapped back, he released his grip on it, and snapped his arm out and to the right as it could go, nearly directly behind his back.

He felt it!

The tiny ball felt him, though, and reacted like a panicked animal, attempting to escape. Just as Harry's fingers brushed the side of it, the golden sphere fluttered its wings wildly, springing forwards and upwards.

Harry, still moving forwards at a break-neck speed, not even holding the handle any longer, desperately tried to reach further and snag it -

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chang sweeping across the sky, a triumphant look of victory on her face as she dashed nearer, arm out to catch his quarry -

The crowd had noticed what had happened in his death-defying plunge, were either silent or screaming -

The rush of roaring wind in his ears -

His mouth raw by the slapping, stinging dry air -

The world awhirl with colours that rushed forwards, too blurred to see the grass that he passed -

And, pinched between his thumb and forefinger, he held a wing - the wing that he had seized as it beat backwards to gain momentum - a wing still frantically beating and attached to the struggling, rebellious Snitch.

--------------------------

Another celebration, that night - the second in less than a month celebrating a Gryffindor victory at Quidditch, the first over Slytherin, and the second a defeat for Ravenclaw.

Harry again managed to refrain from eating any of the party food, restricting himself to a celebratory meal of fruits, vegetables and some tender lamb. Ron wrinkled his nose up when he saw what Harry was eating, and held up a slice of thick, chocolate fudge cake for Harry to admire.

"Now this," he announced with the air of an expert on such matters (for he was, after all) "is real food."

Harry rolled his eyes with amusement. "I doubt that's particularly healthy," he noted mirthfully, before spearing a piece of lamb and chewing on it thoughtfully while the music went on around them.

The twins didn't get drunk this time; instead, they were busy attempting to spike the punch with some suspiciously transparent mixture that probably turned everyone into walruses, or something equally bizarre. Hermione had fortunately managed to thwart them at every turn so far, and was keeping an eye on them.

She was so obsessed with protecting the punch, however, that she neglected to realise that the fruit-cake contained more than a few strangely coloured raisins - after the first three people had to go to the infirmary for hiccupping rainbow-coloured bubbles the size of kittens, Professor McGonagall finally got involved, and the students were ushered off to bed.

--------------------------

Things passed as normally as they could do for a time; Harry trained in staff-fighting with Levina, Captains O'Keifer and Marcella continued teaching Basic Auror Training Lessons (Harry was easily on top in the lessons, especially when it came to gathering into teams and fighting, where he excelled in both attack and defence; although a few unlucky incidents succeeded in showing him the importance of different places to take cover).

Snape regularly slipped him titbits of information about the Canusabeo - it was apparently standing up all the tests Mungo's could throw at it, and they were likely to release information about it within a few months - and Levina did the same, but giving him updates on the unicorn, rather than a potion.

Over the next few weeks, there were four more Quidditch matches; Hufflepuff versus Slytherin, Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw, and finally Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. The winners were Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor respectively, and the next match would be the final of the year - Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw on the second of June.

Thanks to Slytherin's defeat by both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor a while back, and Hufflepuff just recently, the serpent-house was still smarting, and the other houses were only too happy to mock them in the corridors.

There were no attacks, by either Leone or her daemon, by Voldemort and the Death Eaters, or by the Dark, and though Harry tried not to slip into a sense of security, he couldn't help it - it was the first of May, and Summer was on them. Unfortunately, exams were too - it was a month and ten days until their first exam occurred (eleven days for Harry, as the first exam was Languages, which he had already done).

Because of this, nearly every spare moment of the fifth-years' timetables were filled by poring over books, quizzing each other, or writing ten thousand word essays on the uses of porcupine quills in Strengthening Serums.

The trios' hours, were however, mostly spent scanning books into the rods and 'reading' them; '_Popular Enchanting_', '_Popular Magic_', '_Remedial Runes_', '_Dragons' Social Organisation_'. This left them with much more time than the other students; and of course they remembered it far better as well, being less stressed out and having to carry a tonne of books around with them (which Hermione actually did anyway, but still...).

So, as the other students spent their time in the dorm-rooms or the library, a few risking the wrath of Madame Pince by taking the books outside (more than a few students received detention for a speck of mud on book covers), the trio found themselves wandering down towards Hogsmeade, looking for something interesting to do.

"It's not like we have much to be worried about," Hermione mused as they tracked down the beaten path towards the village. "Our exams will go fine, thanks to the rod, You-Know-Who and that daemon haven't turned up in ages - I'm sure Leone's given up on Harry - and our only trouble is boredom!"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno... I have this feeling. You know how everything seems to be going all right, and then something really bad happens?"

"Only every year," Ron scoffed.

"Well, I think something's going to happen," Harry said seriously, pushing Ron's comment aside. "I mean, everyone knows Voldemort's back, so why's he being so quiet? It's not as if he needs to keep his return a secret any longer."

Hermione frowned. "You mean you think he's just - I don't know - preparing? Planning something?"

Harry nodded. "Exactly. Then there's Leone and her daemon; well, frankly she's nuts. I mean, she tried to sacrifice me... I don't think she's just going to give up any time soon. More likely that she's lying low, waiting for everyone to forget about her, before coming back again."

"Don't you think that's a bit paranoid?" Ron asked, worried, as Harry kicked a torn-up tulip to path side.

Harry shrugged again. "Maybe, but it's how I feel. I know it's daft to think that everyone's out to get - but well, we know they are, don't we? And I screwed up getting rid of Leone and her daemon. I mean," he said, rolling his eyes in disgust, "what kind of idiot would have the spell right in front of him, and still mess up?"

Ron mock-punched him. "You're not an idiot, mate. A nutty, half-baked fruitcake, but not an idiot."

"Thanks Ron. That's so nice of you."

And that was when something huge leapt from behind the bushes, jaws wide, aiming for Harry's throat.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Please note that my livejournal at contains information on updates, how the writing's going, etc.)


	19. Chapter 19: Thunderbolt

Chapter 19: Thunderbolt 

"Those who want to live, let them fight, and those who do not want to fight in this world of eternal struggle do not deserve to live." - Adolph Hitler

--------------------------

"Padfoot!?" Harry gasped just as the dog hit him, throwing him to the ground and slobbering its licks over Harry's face. "Ugh! Stop!"

Sirius' ears drooped, as did his tail, before he stumbled backwards, allowing Ron and Hermione to help their friend up, and for Hermione to whip a cleaning spell over Harry - the 'dog-spit and dirt' look wasn't in.

"What are you doing here? I thought you weren't even meant to write until December, let alone come here yourself in May! Aren't you supposed to be on a mission for Dumbledore or something?" Harry interrogated him, happier than he could express that his Godfather was here.

Padfoot wagged his tail, a little happier, and trotted off the path. The trio followed him after making sure nobody was watching, and were led off through to the cave he had stayed in only a few years ago - but taking a short cut around the village of Hogsmeade, rather than down the twisting lanes within it.

As soon as they were inside, Sirius changed back, and was immediately bombarded with more questions.

"Hold on!" he said, aggravated, holding up a hand to ward them off. "One at a time!" Anticipating the first question, he gave them the answer. "I've come back because the trail I was on went dead - there'd been some reports of Death Eater sightings that I was following, but I tracked them as far as I could, and suddenly there was nothing; no leads, no clues, no witnesses. A dead end. So, I thought I'd make my report to Dumbledore in person - and see my Godson along the way."

Harry grinned, and even Ron and Hermione looked glad.

"You won't believe what's been going on while you were away," Hermione promised him, and proceeded to tell him the details of their recent escapades that he hadn't heard before (with enthusiastic help from Ron and Harry). It took just ten minutes of rushed narrative to fill him in on their latest little escapades and updates on Hogwarts life.

Sirius was silent for a moment. "But you have no idea where the Marauders' Map is?"

Harry groaned. "Sirius!"

"I know, I know. Sorry, but that little scrap of parchment took two years of the Marauders' lives to make. And that's not including the breaks," he added as an afterthought. The trio rolled their eyes in synchronisation, which was actually pretty impressive.

"If I ever find out where it is, I swear I'll try to get it back," Harry promised, quite certain that no such thing would ever happen.

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, like you're ever planning on finding it." He gave a mock sigh. "I suppose you just don't care about the items I spent years helping to make. Fine. I know when I'm unloved. Unwanted. Uncared fo-"

"All right, all right! We'll keep an eye out for it!" Harry groaned, "I finally see you again after practically a year, and all you can talk about is the Marauders' Map?"

"Okay, seriously, I have something important to tell you." Sirius said, his face suddenly turning solemn. "I know Dumbledore doesn't want to scare you, Harry -" (Harry snorted in derision) "- but from what I've heard, there've been more than a few sightings of that Death Eater and her daemon -"

"Leone?" Ron asked, and Sirius nodded.

"That's the one. There were a good few sightings of her in Southern Ireland, and from what we can tell, she somehow made her up to Northern Ireland, and from there to England. More than likely she's heading up to Hogwarts for another shot at you, and she probably reached Scotland a while ago."

Ron and Hermione went pale. "But why didn't Dumbledore say anything? If he knew Harry was in danger -"

Sirius sighed. "From what I've worked out, I don't think Dumbledore considers her a real threat. I know the Unspeakables are working on tracking them, because that daemon's killed more than a few people, and they want her locked away pretty badly; but Dumbledore's more concerned with stopping You-Know-Who at the moment. That's who he considers the biggest threat."

Harry, who knew that Voldie was just some jumped-up little Dork Lord with an ego problem and a chip on his shoulder (and a damn bad plastic surgeon) wasn't quite convinced. He, personally, was more worried about the psycho-chick with the killing-machine. By which I mean Leone.

"Mm." he said.

"Anyway, I just wanted to warn you - make sure you don't decide to sneak out of school or anything," Sirius said, looking pointedly at the trio. "I mean, you two -" he nodded to Ron and Hermione, "- are targets as well, seeing as how she knows you're friends with Harry. Just be careful, and don't do anything stupid."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What, so we've got no defences and all we get is a warning?"

Sirius sighed. "The Hogwarts defences have been strengthened, you've still those two Auror captains in the school, you've been through a lot more than Aurors and survived, let alone students; and don't forget, there's whole teams of Unspeakables and Aurors tracking them down. As soon as they find out where the pair are, they'll catch them. At the moment, until the teams know where they are, they're useless."

Ron sighed. "Brilliant. Good to know we're on our own, hunted by a pair of ruthless lunatics who want to tear us apart. I'll have to mark this as a good day in my diary."

"You keep a diary?" Hermione said, surprised.

"You know, 'Mione," Ron groaned, "for someone who's so smart, you can be really weird at times."

--------------------------

Lord Abyssay had given permission to proceed. The plan was commencing on schedule. The pawns were to become rooks, and the rooks become queens. The knights were in place. The king was safe. In addition, most importantly, there was only one player. Abyssay had control, and was not going to let it go.

In less than two months, the plans would come to fruition. The Test was coming. Subject FB/P/26H would pass, or die. Dying meant failure for the Subject. Passing meant the unthinkable for Commander Tom Fallow - and he was determined that it would not come to that.

--------------------------

When Harry and the others made it back to Hogwarts an hour later, they were only too content to slip into the Great Hall for a late tea, and then straight to Gryffindor Tower.

Admittedly, some homework had yet to be done, which meant that Harry had to bring out the Oxtamed, and the trio sat around one of the tables in the common room, writing up the uses of Angelica root in controlled visions and discussing Sirius' information until Harry left for training with Levina.

Training with staffs was a lot easier than swords; not only was Harry a lot quicker and better at spotting weaknesses thanks to his past training but he felt that he had a lot more control over the staff, thanks to the space between his hands giving him extra grip - whereas with the sword, the hands were too close together to make him feel he was particularly dexterous with it.

They had progressed far enough for Harry to be fighting now, rather than mimicking Levina's moves; although he hadn't landed any decent blows on her, he had managed to hit her once or twice, which he was quite proud of, considering he had only been training for several months.

Harry knew for a fact, thanks to several 'subtly' dropped hints, that she was seriously considering speeding up his lessons so that they could move on to hand-to-hand fighting faster - he seemed to have a natural talent for staff-fighting, but he had a nasty feeling he would be terrible in unarmed combat.

"This is good work, Harry," Levina complimented him as she dodged a blow aimed for her ankles and swung her own staff at his shoulders. "We'll have you on a full-sized staff in a matter of weeks at this rate!"

Harry chose this moment to slip and nearly got a large lump of wood slamming into his neck. "WHAT?!"

Levina frowned, lowering her weapon. "I beg your pardon?"

Harry's eyes bulged as he gawped at her. "What d'ya mean, full-sized staff? What's this, a travel-sized pocket version for convenience?" he growled, slamming his staff in the ground for emphasis.

"Oh, don't be daft," Levina sighed, rolling her eyes as if Harry had just suggested the possibility of dance lessons instead of fighting. "Do you really think that puny, weak little eight-footer is going to strike fear into the hearts of men?"

"Well, I was planning on hitting them in the heads, not waving it at them threateningly," Harry snapped out. "How big's the 'full-sized' one?"

The android motioned to her own nine-foot long staff. "Well, this one is full-sized for fighting... the ceremonial ones are a bit larger, but absolutely useless for fighting with - they're just showy things with ornaments stuck everywhere; I have one of those too, actually, I was awarded it for doing some diplomatic stuff for Lázebien - that was part of where Czechoslovakia is now, a few centuries ago -"

"That's very bloody fascinating, I'm sure," Harry butted in furiously, "but how the Hell am I supposed to swing a nine foot staff, when I'm hardly an expert with an eight-foot."

"Simple. By becoming an expert with an eight-foot staff first. Take it slowly - small steps, that's the way." Levina said cheerfully. "Oh, don't look at me like that. One foot is hardly going to make much difference, is it? When you're proficient with this one, then we'll get started with the proper version. You're a fast learner, and you've got a lot of talent with the staff, so I don't think it'll be that difficult. Now, are we going to fight, or what?"

Harry grumbled under his breath and brought the staff up again, grudgingly. "I suppose so."

"Good. By the way, I have a little treat for you the day before your exams."

Harry frowned. "Let me guess - you're going to pummel me into the floor with a poleaxe." He perked up. "Wait, is it something to do with the unicorn?"

Levina's face twitched into an expression that Harry didn't quite, but it was gone a second later. "No, but the unicorn's doing fine, by the way. Actually, I'm going to be taking you to Atlantis."

"Atlantis?!"

"Yeah. Big sunken city, my old home, ring any bells?"

"I know that," scoffed Harry, "but isn't it kind of - well... sunken?"

Levina shrugged. "There's plenty of spells to take care of pressure, air, light and the rest of it. I just felt that you had a right to see the place that you're the rightful ruler of - even if there's no-one living there. Plus, there's a lot of stuff there that's pretty interesting; the temples, palace, museum and library - and the city Atlantis was just the capital of the kingdom of Atlantis, so you might want to check out the other cities as well. The Watchtower is quite interesting..."

"Why's the city have the same name as the kingdom?" Harry asked, feeling this was a stupid idea.

"Why's New York city in New York state?" Levina pointed out brusquely. "The city came first, and they decided to name the whole kingdom after it, once it was established. Do you want to go?"

Harry nodded eagerly. "Yeah, definitely! Do you mean I'm really the rightful ruler of it?"

"Technically, being the descendant of Merlin in a direct line, you'd be the prince, though I suggest not feeling too proud of the title, since you don't really rule anyone. You'd be the king if you had a coronation, but I don't think anyone will be performing one for you, anytime soon." She paused. "Actually, you technically rule me... but I'm still your tutor, so if you try to make me call you 'your highness', I'll have to hurt you."

"Like you haven't already?" Harry muttered, knowing he had a wonderfully purple bruise on his side from the last bout they had. "I'd like to go, really. It sounds like it could be pretty fun. Could I have a look at the rods and weapons?"

Levina grimaced. "I've created a monster."

--------------------------

'_Magical Duelling for Adepts (Volume II)_' was the next thing on Harry's agenda, and he took care to scan it into the rod the next day. It took more than an hour to get it all in, with the trio working in shifts of twenty minutes each. It took, however, just under half an hour for them all to 'read' it.

"I can't believe we got resistant to those headaches so quickly," Ron wondered, as they revelled in their clear heads. "I mean, I thought there was a Bludger in my head the first few times, but I haven't felt anything for ages."

Harry and Hermione voiced their concurrence. "Maybe it's because we're so used to it, by now," mused Harry. "I must have used rods more than fifty times now, so I must have become accustomed to it, like both of you have."

Before they could discuss it anymore, a huge specimen of an owl threw itself into the dormitory and hooted imperiously. Harry recognised it as the Great-Horned owl Hermione had last September; it was called Zara, or Sora, or something - he'd never caught the name.

"Mikael!" Hermione cried, leaving Harry completely wrong and wondering why he thought it was called Zara. As the owl flicked it's head a hundred and eighty degrees to stare wide-eyed at Ajax, and then looked back at its mistress, Mikael stuck out his leg, where they had noticed a letter attached. Hermione untied it, frowning.

"This can't be - it's _much_ too soon -" she muttered, breaking the thick wax seal and ignoring the boys, who were trying to see what it was over her shoulder. "It shouldn't be here for at _least_ another week - oh, Ron, stop _breathing_ over me! You can see it in a moment!"

The boys fell back, anticipating the unknown letter with interest, as Hermione pulled it from the envelope and started to peruse it. It was a marbled cream, thick paper that was obviously expensive. As she read, her face changed from anxious pursed lips to wild, gleaming eyes. "This is _brilliant_!" she trilled in triumph, holding the letter up as if it were the golden ticket to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.

"Great, 'Mione - but what is it?" Ron quizzed. Hermione gave a '_hrmph_' sound and thrust it at him.

Taking it, Ron cleared his throat and read aloud.

"_Dear Miss Granger, _

_ Thank you for your application to study E-Level Arithmancy in four years time. Your name has been noted, and your exam results will be monitored. If the grades received are acceptable, you will be called upon several months after your NEWT results have been published to take an scholarship exam. _

_ Required grades are: Arithmancy OWL - Outstanding (90 or higher) _

_ Arithmancy NEWT - Outstanding (90 or higher) _

_ These grades (or the equivalent) must be attained for entry. _

_ Yours sincerely, _

_ Eleanor Hutchins, _

_ Regulator of Candidates and Scholarships, BeCAMI_

"You're going to BeCAMI?" said Ron, sounding impressed. "Bloody Hell, 'Mione, you've got some ambition!"

Harry looked at the pair, curious. "What's BeCAMI?"

Hermione took the letter back and explained, "It's the British College of Advanced Magical Instruction. It mostly takes NEWT level students who don't go to Hogwarts - foreign students and the like - but it's a private school, and places are really sought-after, because it's come top of the European best magical-schools chart for over twenty years." She slipped the letter neatly back into the envelope. "Every year, they take in twenty students to study E-Levels as well - but because so many people apply, you have to be on the waiting list at least three years before you plan to study there."

"Bloody expensive too," Ron muttered.

"That's why I want a scholarship," Hermione huffed. "I wouldn't be able to afford it otherwise."

Harry was still puzzling over the letters' contents. "I thought you did E-Levels out of school?"

"Usually," Hermione admitted, "but if you do it in a proper institution, you're likely to get a better score - you'll have proper teachers helping you and everything. Plus," she added dreamily, "BeCAMI has a library with more than eight-hundred-thousand books and papers. Hogwarts only has about ten thousand!"

Ron gave Harry a despairing look. "Wow. Only ten-thousand? That's... that's terrible, Hermione. However do you stand it?"

"Disgusting, isn't it?" chattered the girl, oblivious to the sarcasm. "Over a thousand years old, and the earliest book we have is from the late seventeenth century - and even that's in the restricted section. It's appalling."

"Look at the time! We should be in bed," Harry gabbled thankfully as he caught sight of his watch, before Hermione began another rant on the injustices of a ten-book limit in the school library. "Off to your dormitory! Shoo, shoo!" He sprung up and pushed her towards the door. "Charms test tomorrow, remember? If you want any last-minute cramming, now's the time. Go on, good-night, bye-bye," he finished as he shoved her outside, before slamming the door in her face.

"Wow, Harry," Ron supported, impressed. "That was really subtle!"

--------------------------

Two days later, after Harry finally got Hermione to start speaking to him again, Harry was left in the dormitory by himself while the other students went to History, and then either Magical Languages or Herbology.

He spent the time adding a few extra pages to his website, finishing some Transfiguration homework, researching the effects of the celestial bodies for Divination (with a little help from the rods), and finally chatting with Rhiannon, whose new hobby was checking out various Swiss bank accounts with Techno-Magic, and researching which accounts belonged to legitimate business-people rather than criminals. Apparently it was 50-50 so far.

'_The problem is,'_ she wrote unhappily, '_I can't have any **real** fun, because I don't want to risk my laptop vanishing off somewhere. You know, the whole 'if you are undeserving' shtick._'

Harry typed back immediately. '_Well, the introduction said that it was mostly stuff about flaunting your power that got it taken away. It never said anything about using it unethically - even if your own conscience would stop you._'

'_But what about if it wasn't really doing anyone any harm?_'came the sly reply. '_What if some criminal's files of incriminating evidence somehow got sent to the police, or their money was anonymously donated to some charity?_'

Harry thought for a moment. '_Would that charity happen to be 'The National Society for the Growth of Our Bank Accounts?_'

'_How did you know?_'

Rhiannon already had a bank account; Harry had only his Wizarding account, and he was sure that it would be useful to attempt a transaction into his own account with technology (unless the Goblins had decided to expand rather more than was necessary), so it fell to Rhiannon to hold any money they 'liberated' from the 'unethical elite' as she put it. '_I wasn't using the account anyway,_' she enlightened him, '_so we'll be able to split it fifty-fifty, without having to worry about any cash in there originally._'

Harry certainly felt like one of the 'unethical elite' as he considered their plan fully, but the girl soon won him over with her reasoning that they would only be taking from those with no claim to the money in the first place; and besides, a lack of money on their targets' part would mean their illegal actions would be even fewer.

Harry gave in to her persuasion amusedly, and left her to cackle over her soon-to-be-ill-gained monetary funds, choosing to head off to bed rather than join her.

Second of June was an exhausting day; rather than everyone staying inside to desperately revise for the exams, which would be arriving in just over a week, nearly the entire school was out in force to cheer on the teams at the Quidditch final.

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had both qualified for the finishing match, but it was nowhere near a close call; it really should have been Slytherin playing against Gryffindor, but thanks to a series of lucky accidents for Ravenclaw (Harry suspected Fred and George were behind part of it, as several of the Slytherin players had spontaneously developed nasty boils and itchiness before their matches against Ravenclaw), the eagle-house were in the running instead.

They were a push-over, especially with Harry's now over-developed awareness and agility; though he personally took this to be a result of his training with Levina, rather than any skill-increase to had to perform thanks to the 'better' playing of the new Slytherin Seeker. In his opinion, Cerys Reed wasn't as good a Seeker as Malfoy - and he'd had to buy his way onto the team.

Gryffindor thrashed Ravenclaw (Cho Chang let out a delightful wail as Harry grabbed the whirring Snitch) 320 to 110. The Quidditch Cup was theirs, but it didn't look like the House Cup would be; Gryffindor was lagging in third place, just behind Slytherin and even further behind Ravenclaw - barely beating Hufflepuff.

"Well, it wasn't like we could make five years in a row," Ron sighed as they looked over the Scoreglasses disappointedly.

"Slytherin had it for seven years before us," Harry muttered gloomily, which caused Ron and Hermione's heads to visibly droop. "Looks like if we don't get a chance to act the heroes, Gryffindor doesn't get the points."

"Idiots!" snapped a voice, making Ron jump half a foot in the air.

"You're unbelievable," Ginny fumed, "Throwing all the celebrations to the wind when you've got the Quidditch Cup anyway. What's wrong with Ravenclaw winning something for once? At least it's not Slytherin!"

Harry sneaked a guilty look at the others. "Yeah... you're right."

"But where'd she come from?" Rom wondered quietly, and winced under the force of his sister's glare. "Sorry, I didn't say that."

Ginny threw him another deadly look, before stalking off in a way eerily reminiscent of Snape on a bad day (not that he ever had good ones).

"What's wrong with Ginny?" Hermione asked, surprised at the other girl's temper. Ron shrugged.

"Woke up on the wrong side of bed, probably. Dunno why she's so angry when she's telling us to cheer up - and insulting us, but I think that's part of the package."

Harry puzzled over it for a moment before coming up with a possible explanation. "Exam stress? I mean, she's trying a Spell Creation E-Level as well as her normal Summer exams, isn't she?"

"Maybe, maybe," Hermione allowed, pinching her robe collar in thought. "But I mean, we've got our OWLs - and we're trying the E-Levels as well - and we're not panicking and getting stressed, are we?"

"Yeah, but we've got the rod to help us," pointed out Ron. "We've got all the theory stuck in our heads, for the OWLs and E-Levels - all we have to do is put it in practice. While Ginny's trying to remember it all, _and_ knows that it's OWLs next year; maybe she's worried she chose the wrong subjects, or something?"

"Could be just hormones," Harry suggested brightly.

"Or something else," Hermione muttered almost silently, dipping her head a little as if speaking to herself.

Ron frowned. "What?"

"Never mind!" the girl shot back quickly, plastering a smile on her face. "Is it lunch yet? I'm starving!"

The boys gave each other a look - that was Ron's line, not Hermione's - but played along and continued to Gryffindor Tower, to while-away the time before lunch with the party.

--------------------------

It was the day before Harry's little trip to his rightful kingdom - i.e, his visit to the submerged city of Atlantis - when he spotted the person on the castle grounds.

He had been sitting in the library by himself, confusing himself over which book he should scan into the rod for the upcoming exams, when he happened to glance out of the window beside him. Though it was Saturday, no-one was outside; the library and dormitories were packed with students trying to remember the main ingredients of the Carasinthe potion, or the incantation for various cleaning spells.

But there was obviously _someone_ out there.

He (or she) was standing almost exactly between the Forest and the castle, gazing at the relatively-clear sky. Harry couldn't see their features - they were too far for that - but he could see that they were an adult, quite tall and strangely bulky.

They weren't doing anything; just standing, staring - when they suddenly gave a half-turn and looked straight at Harry. He couldn't quite say how he knew he was the subject of their watch, but was sure of it, just as he was sure that when they raised their arm and made a 'come-hither' gesture, that they meant it for him.

Rising slowly and glancing around, Harry slipped past his gossiping schoolmates and hurried over to an adjoining corridor which held a door that led outside.

He knew it was stupid, when he had no idea who it was - he knew he should be telling a teacher that someone had got past the supposedly strengthened wards - but for the moment, his curiosity was all that mattered.

By the time he was halfway to the figure, he could see the detail. It was a man, in his late forties, with a strong but well-lined face. He was staring at Harry intensely, as though analysing him, and finally Harry paused warily, half a dozen metres away from him, hand on the wand in his pocket.

The man bulky not because of his weight, for he looked to be in excellent shape - instead, he was wearing what appeared to be armour. It wasn't mediaeval like the ones on display in Hogwarts, Harry saw - it was plate armour, a silver-colour that didn't reflect the smallest object around it. The man was almost completely covered in it; it was well-shaped, perfectly fitting his body and limbs. A helmet of the same material covered his hair and down to his neck, while boots and gloves of a soft-seeming silver material covered the rest of him; only his face showed.

He appeared to be unarmed; no wand or weapon - he stood still, watching Harry grimly, and the boy noticed the black insignia on the man's helmet and shoulders. It appeared to be several jagged shapes, put in such positions that together they formed a birds head with hollow eyes and a wickedly sharp beak.

They stood watching each other for perhaps two minutes, unmoving, before the man finally spoke. "Harry James Potter?"

Harry nodded guardedly, not taking his eyes off the man, feeling a slight burning around his upper chest as his name was spoken. He vaguely realised that another rune must have appeared on his pendant.

The man looked at him thoughtfully, then nodded in return. Before Harry had time to blink, the man was gone.

Harry's eyes flicked about as he fell a step back, startled. The man was just - _gone_. No pop or crack of Apparition, no turning invisible, no shift of an Animagus; one slip-second ago he had been there, and now he wasn't. It was as simple as that, but it served only to make Harry even more confused.

Levina had some explaining to do.

--------------------------

Levina _didn't_ do any explaining.

Instead, to Harry's complete amazement, she seemed as baffled as Harry, if not more so. Most of her emotion-range was taken up, however, by her absolute fury that she wasn't being let in on the big secret. '_Hah!_' Harry thought happily. '_Now she understands how it feels!_'

She inspected his pendant, verified the rune meaning '_the_' had appeared, and spat venom whenever Harry oh-so-casually pointed out that for once, she didn't have a clue what was happening.

"It's not as if I control the whole bloody world," she snapped and tore some pitta-bread before chewing on it furiously. "You think I can organize the universe into doing what I want?! Well, _do _you?!"

Harry made his excuses and ran from her at this point, swearing never to interrupt her lunch-break again. He decided that it wouldn't hurt to tell Ron and Hermione about it though, so as they chowed-down their own food, he explained the whole incident. It didn't take very long, because there wasn't much he _could_ tell them, but they were still over it like the chocolate sauce on Ron's dessert.

Harry realised Hermione had said something, and snapped away from casting perplexed glances at Parvati and Lavender, who kept shooting him looks before putting their heads together and giggling behind their hands. "Huh?"

Hermione looked at him exasperatedly. "Oh honestly, Harry. I said that I don't know how anyone could just disappear like that, but it's likely that's how he got in. I mean, he must have bypassed the wards _somehow_, mustn't he?"

"Yeah, 'cause they were such protection against the daemon," Ron grumbled over a mouthful of ice-cream.

Hermione frowned. "Ron, they could hardly stop the daemon from getting in when it was inside the whole time. Besides, they've been strengthened twice since then, so he must have either evaded or negated the alarms somehow." She hummed-and-harred for a moment, then; "I think I'll have to do a bit of reading; maybe ask Captain Marcella what wards and alarms were put up, because I don't think Captain O'Keifer would tell me..."

"And then?" Harry prompted.

"The," explained Hermione, "we'd have some idea of how to start looking for ways to get around them. I mean, do the wards extend all the way overhead and underground, like a protective bubble? Is it just like a wall around the outside? Why can unauthorised owls get in with no problems - do they have some ability that a human could replicate?"

"If he _was_ a human," Ron pointed out, and Hermione nodded eagerly.

"That's a good point, Ron! He may very well not have been human at all! Shape-shifting beasts and creatures are very rare, but it's still possible. He could have been an illusion even, or one of the students under a Polyjuice potion or disguising spell. What's more important though, isn't _how_ he got in, but _why_."

Harry shrugged. "He was obviously looking for me, because he said my name. He didn't look as if he wanted to hurt me, though."

Hermione looked thoughtful again. "Well, he didn't give you anything, or leave a message; he didn't ask you anything except check your name... I'm not sure, but I have a few idea where to start looking."

Ron groaned and thrust his head into his hands, making Hermione scowl at him. "Firstly," she sniffed, "I'm going to check out what that symbol could be. Obviously it means something; perhaps like our House animals - and there's plenty of books on crests and images in the library."

"Don't you think you should just give it a rest, with exams coming up?" Harry pleaded, and her face fell.

"Oh, yes... exams. I'd nearly forgotten. Well," she said, with the appearance of a determined gleam in her eyes, "we have just over a week between the end of exams and when we leave for the holidays, so that'll be a good time to start the search and get some clues for where to keep looking over the holidays!"

Harry looked at Ron despairingly. "Better you than me, 'Mione," he sighed, scraping the last spots of yoghurt from his carton.

--------------------------

The next day, after Harry got ready for his 'Hogsmeade visit', he made his way down one of the flights of stairs to the entrance hall, where he was to meet Levina. Before he left the Tower though, he noticed a small crowd of students bustling around a sign on the Gryffindor notice-board, and managed to slip past them to see what it was.

It was, the notice announced, the end of the Basic Auror Training lessons. The large course that the members had been through last week had in fact been their final test.

Harry's mouth dropped open in disbelief. They hadn't even told the students they were marking them that day! It was a good way to get an idea of how the students would fare normally, rather than when they were making a special effort.

The results of the course were posted below the announcement, with a good-bye and good-luck from the Captains.

Harry felt a bubble of elation rise in him as he saw that he was first, with ninety-four percent; three percent more than he had scored in his application test, which had been easier than the final test. Thanking the rods and the physical exercise (and the stunning-spell he had managed to get a lucky hit with), he read the rest.

Ron was second with eighty-nine percent, and then Ernie Macmillan; seven of the ten in the class had passed - just Neville, Cho and Hannah Abbot had failed. Neville had been just one percent away from the seventy-five percent pass-mark.

Feeling much happier and lighter than when he had first risen, Harry continued with a spring in his step, and his carefree face caught Levina's attention as soon as he met with her. She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, as they made their way outside.

"We'll get out of sight, and then we'll take my own way of travelling," she informed him brusquely, sounding frighteningly like Professor McGonagall. "I can't Apparate with you, so it'll be easier to simply use a bit of Seportion, if a bit slower."

"What's Se-" Harry began, but didn't get further; they had rounded a corner on the trail to Hogsmeade and - out of sight - a violet glow like a halo spun out of Levina's artificial body, with jet-black runes appearing and fading in it like ghostly splashes of obsidian ink.

She grabbed Harry's arm, and the same glow enfolded Harry, who shivered as the frosty touch of the light swiftly surrounded him; as it covered his eye, his vision saw everything in shades of purple.

He didn't get much chance to look at anything though; for a second later the flowing rays seemed not to pint out of him, but _into_ him, and as they sucked into his flesh, filling him, he saw the world blink out, and reappear as water; surrounding him, but not touching him.

Harry frowned, uneasiness increasing as Levina let go of his arm. The same thing was happening to her; the water kept just an inch away from her body, threatening to crush her. "Thanks for warning me," Harry snapped.

Levina gave him a pointed look, and Harry realised she couldn't hear him; they could hear themselves obviously, thanks to the air surrounding them, but the water merely made each other's speech sound deep and garbled.

Harry caught a glimpse of the word 'Telepathy' in his mind, and realised this was a message from Levina on how to communicate. Another message came - air rushing into the space around his body - and he understood it immediately; the air he breathed out, polluted with carbon-dioxide, was being sent to the place they had vanished from while pure oxygen was filtered through to replace it.

He took the chance to look around and gain his bearings, feeling a little reassured. Hundreds of metres away, the water was pure black; he guessed that was where the lighting spell that Levina was using must run out. The light and air seemed to move with them though, as Levina glided forwards and deeper down.

Harry followed, feeling his body move as he ordered through the water, reminding him of his old Firebolt.

Below him, appearing through the murky gloom of the surroundings, rose part of the city of Atlantis - not in ruins, not crumbling, but vibrant and beautiful as the day it sank, devoid of fish and coral, and instead full of beautiful buildings, and statues, and roads that led ever onwards to beyond his sight.

--------------------------

"But what were all those buildings made of?" Harry interrogated, bursting with curiosity. Levina looked up from the papers she was grading, rubbing an eye.

"Harry, you've been showering me with questions since we got back," she pointed out, "and that was over two hours ago."

Harry gave her a pleading look, after taking another look in the bag that carried their 'souvenirs'. "Come on, I know nothing about Atlantis! Half the stuff I thought I knew was wrong, and the rest of it was - well, even more wrong. Don't I have a right to know?"

Levina groaned and set her quill down. "Fine. I doubt anyone will be finding out their Divination essay scores until you're satisfied. There were," she started to explain, "a lot of different building materials. You only saw the capital city though, and there's only a few different sorts there.

"The main buildings - the big, important ones - are all made of ivory, magically strengthened. There's some other stuff in small quantities, but that's the main one. Most of the other buildings; homes, shops and the like; are made of alaerin, the same as your pendant. It's much better at holding spells and enchantments, and wards can be put on them in mass quantities, so it was a typical material for common buildings. Precious stones such as o-"

"Wait -" Harry butted in, "Hold on a second. I can understand that alarin or elairin or whatever it is being mass produced, but ivory?" He looked at her pointedly. "That's - well, rare. I mean everyone knows about whales and elephants being hunted and endangered and stuff, and - and, well, I bet they didn't have elephants in Atlantis..."

He trailed off weakly, and a small grin at this daft comment broke out on Levina's face. "You're right, of course; with the amount of ivory left nowadays, it would be ridiculous to think there'd be ivory in enough quantity to build anything like those magnificent building down there.

"Firstly, ivory was pretty special; think of it as more precious and expensive than gold or platinum in these days, and you'll have some idea of what I'm getting at. However, this wasn't due to the amount of it in existence, but due to the control on it. The royal family of Atlantis used to keep several whales - don't look so incredulous - you know how kings of old would have private hunting grounds with deer that no-one else could hunt, and how the Queen has carefully bred, pedigree corgis as pets?

"It was sort of like that, I suppose. There was an offshore breeding habitat for the whales - a type long extinct, I'm afraid - kept for and by the royal family for use in the annual festival and things like that; when they died, their bones were harvested for ivory. And then of course, we did quite a bit of trading for elephant ivory; and I must admit, we were probably the first civilisation to hunt whales of the more common types - and there was..." she broke off uncertainly.

"There was... another way we got ivory," she said slowly, "but I don't think you should know how just yet."

Harry's eyes widened. "Why not?"

"_Because_ I don't think you should know." Levina repeated. "Besides, most of the royals didn't get to know until they were ruling, and the information wouldn't be of much use to you anyway."

Harry scowled, knowing he wouldn't get anywhere by pleading or demanding. "Fine, great. More secrets."

"You'll find out," the woman breathed, "not soon, but soon enough."

Harry wasn't sure what it was soon enough _for_, but he had a nasty feeling that he wouldn't be able to wrench that out of his tutor either.

--------------------------

He didn't have time to worry about Levina's little riddles, though; the Magical Languages exam was tomorrow, and although Harry had already taken it himself, it meant that exam time had begun - Herbology was the day after that, then History (again, Harry had already passed), and then exams every day until the twenty-second of the month. Some of them weren't OWLs, but E-Level exams - he had already decided he would be attempting these, feeling that the rod would give him an advantage.

So, the day after the excursion to the sunken city, the trio gathered together in the boys' dormitory, made sure they wouldn't be interrupted, and went at revising with all the precision of military drill; Hermione had brought the books she thought would be useful, Harry checked them through to see whether they were just repeating information from other books, and Ron scanned the rod down the pages of each book.

After several hours scanning and 'reading' '_Perfect Potions for Strange Situations_', '_Practical Wizardry_' and '_High-Energy Enchanting_', Hermione left to take the Language exam, while Ron and Harry remained, flicking through the glossy pages of Quidditch Weekly.

"Think we should be revising?" Harry yawned, gazing listlessly on an advertisement for used brooms.

"Nah," Ron wheezed curtly, and with that, the pair spent the rest of the day pursuing pleasure rather than education - although they stopped when Hermione returned from the exam and screamed at them until they hastily started cramming again.

--------------------------

Herbology was the exam of the day the following morning; the fifth-year students were only too happy that OWLs were restrained to one exam per day, unlike the NEWTs.

Herbology consisted of a two-hour written test, and a short practical for extra marks - naming plants that had been brought in by the examiner, and giving certain facts about their care. Both were held in the main school, rather than one of the greenhouses, which lent an air of unfamiliarity that helped to unsettle the students slightly.

All of the fifth-year Herbologists were taking the exam at the same time, so Harry found himself seated between Parvati Patil and Dean Thomas: he was thankful to see they both looked a lot more uncomfortable than himself.

The second that the clock clicked past nine o'clock, the class turned their papers over so fast, Harry was sure there would be a hurricane in China. As he skimmed over the booklet, Harry's mouth widened into a grin. He knew every single one of the answers - each word seemed to be etched into the back of his mind, lying dormant until it was called upon to help.

Glancing over at the others, Harry saw that while Ron and Hermione had matching grins, and Neville was looking determinedly happy, nearly all the other students were wavering between panic and nervous contemplation.

Dipping his quill in ink and turning back to his own question paper, Harry swiftly and easily filled in the answers; a whirl of questions spun by, demanding knowledge of roots and spores, photosynthesis and starch, thorns and poisons, seeds and food-chains - as Harry solved the final multiple-choice question, there were still seventeen minutes left to read through and check.

The practical section was, if anything, effortless.

Harry named the twelve shrubs and saplings that were uncovered with ease, describing their quirks and preferences as though he had swallowed the Herbology books rather than uploading them into his mind. He was perfect in chopping orkney roots to obtain their the skin-irritating liquid inside, he recited the uses of gnarl-sap without pausing, he soothed a mewling greybush with the minimum of the glucose it was addicted to.

And so it was with good reason that he left the exam at midday with a broad beam on his face, slightly worried that someone might take one look at his daft grin and call St. Mungoes.

"That was _easy_!" crowed Ron as soon as soon as the trio met back up past the '**SILENCE:- EXAMINATION**' sign.

Hermione limited herself to a small smile, though her eyes glittered euphorically. "I suppose it wasn't all that complicated," she allowed, the exhilaration shining through her voice. "I think it was the -" she looked at the other two meaningfully, " - _private_ revision lessons that made all the difference."

"You can say the rod, if you just don't say it too loud, 'Mione," Ron grumbled, making sure no-one else was in hearing range. "Bloody Hell, it was simple! I can't believe Fred and George failed it, I could do half those questions in my sleep."

Hermione frowned. "Ron, do you really think we'd have found it so easy without the rod?"

Ron paused. "Er- maybe not."

"Before you get into another fight," Harry interrupted quickly, "what are we going to do after lunch?"

"Quidditch," said Ron promptly, while Hermione jolted out "Revise," at the same time.

Harry looked at the girl desperately. "But we spent nearly all of yesterday revising! And besides, I don't have a test tomorrow, I've already done History, so I shouldn't have to!"

A brilliant crimson appeared on Hermione's face, and she seemed to grow in stature by several inches, staring wildly upon Harry. "'_NO TEST TOMORROW'_?! That's not the point, and you _know_ it! You've got a test the day after tomorrow, and I'm sure there's still plenty you can be getting on with for the other lessons! How many books have you read for your Protective Magic E-Level?"

Harry winced at the reminder of his Ward Creation class. "Two?" he offered.

Hermione ballooned in rage. "TWO! Harry, despite the fact that no-one's expecting you to get an E-Level at this age, that _doesn't mean you shouldn't try_!"

"Okay, okay! I'll revise, I'll read a dozen books, I swear," Harry promised, wishing he'd learned a spell to ward off angry friends of the female persuasion. "You can use the rod for your History revision - I think Ron's got it in his trunk - and I'll get some books from the library. Is that all right?"

"I suppose so," Hermione graciously allowed, and Harry at once bid his goodbyes and scampered off down the halls, dodging Peeves (who was cackling insanely as Professor McGonagall attempted to talk him out of swinging a yowling Mrs Norris out the window) before he found himself in the library.

There was, surprisingly, no-one there. The fifth-years were all outside, at lunch, or in the dormitories and common rooms, recovering from their recent torture; the seventh-years were doing the same, though recuperating from their NEWTs instead of OWLs - and all the other years were making the most of the remaining sunshine before it became Winter again, or happily partaking of an early lunch.

Perhaps more startlingly, Madam Pince was nowhere in sight. Harry frowned as he noted this fact, quite sure that he had never known the librarian to be outside her domain at break-times. She was always there in the background, hovering over the readers' shoulders like an omnipresent devil, ready to swoop down and rescue a book the moment a possibility of its spoiling presented itself - and give the perpetrator a good ear-bashing while she was at it.

Now though, the library was as quiet as - well, a library. No solid **thunk** of a book being stamped out, no rustle of fragile, old pages turning, no hushed giggles in the corner (belonging to one of the many cliques of girls that had made the room a favourite haunt for gossiping and politics of '_whose hair-colour can't be natural_').

Wondering whether the room was perhaps off-limits for the day - but deciding to risk it anyway - Harry slipped into the room, a little unsure of himself. It had never looked quite as big as it did now; his every footstep seemed to make a dull thud, but even that deadened sound found a way to echo loudly in Harry's ears.

"Hello?" he tested, deciding that if he asked any louder and Madam Pince _was_ in there, he would probably be kicked out for making too much noise. No one answered, however, and Harry decided to just act normally and find the book s he was looking for.

His pace picking up, Harry ambled round to the Defence section, going through in his mind where the books on wards would be. As he reached it, he suddenly realised something that should have struck him as soon as he noticed his solitude.

The restricted section was unguarded.

No witnesses. No librarian.

Plenty of spells in his head, eagerly bounding forward to be the one he would use.

A smirk slithering into position, Harry listened for the sound of approaching footsteps, heard none, and so stepped the few paces towards the restricted-section door.

Summoning a wandless Techno-Magic spell, Harry breathed '_Kalas dalan; falas_' upon the lock.

The door silently unlocked, and Harry pulled it open before stepping inside. 


	20. Chapter 20: White Ivory

Chapter 20: White Ivory 

"Words build bridges into unexplored regions." - Adolph Hitler

--------------------------

The restricted section was devoid of any lurking librarians as well, but the silence seemed far more oppressive in here than around the public books. There was no window in this area - Harry guessed that most who entered would light their wands of bring a lantern, so he cast Lumos and held his wand up to see.

There was a lot of dust, was the first thing he noticed; in contrast to the spick-and-span shelves outside, motionless clouds of thick, grey dark swathed books that looked like they hadn't been touched for decades. Some books still had marks in thin layers of dust that showed where coats of accumulated dirt had built up, but been swept away as books were taken to be studied - but even the most recently-moved looked as though it hadn't been touched for several years.

Harry recognised some of the books he had seen on his last sojourn into this part of the library; several more were chained up, and one or two even looked as though they were in a deep sleep, their covers swelling in and out and emitting a rusting snore. Harry crept past these few as quickly and quietly as he could, wondering what type of book he should take.

Picking a random shelf, Harry squinted at the musty tomes it contained, and his widened. No wonder these were in the restricted section! '_Blood Magics and Control_', '_Moste Terrible Magick of thee Soul and Spirite_' - he was surprised these were in a school at all.

The books didn't seem to be in any order at all - not by author, or subject, Dewey Decimal System or the dates they were written on. In fact, as Harry discovered by scanning shelves nearby, they seemed to be a hodgepodge mess of books, crammed in together with no respect for any kind of organisation. Not that Harry particularly cared - it would make taking some of the books that much easier.

Now the big question was how to take advantage of this situation. He had no idea how long it would be before someone happened to enter the library, and he didn't really have time to ponder what books to take.

Closing his eyes, Harry took a deep breath, spun around until he felt mildly dizzy, and then grabbed books at random off the shelves around him. After he had piled the five or six up in his arms, he took another quick look around. There were no particularly obvious gaps (but he moved some books across to fill the spaces just in case), and - with a few seconds of fervently whispered Techno-Magic spells - Harry shrunk the books until they made a large bulge in his robes pocket and made good his escape into the still empty library.

--------------------------

"Where were you?" Hermione asked impatiently as Harry slipped into the Great Hall for lunch some minutes later.

"Just dropping off some books in my dormitory," Harry replied nonchalantly, reaching for the Pumpkin Juice. "Meet me in the boy's dorm when we've finished Divination," he muttered to Hermione and Ron, "I've got some things to show you."

Ron looked at him eagerly, while Hermione appeared simply curious. They took the quietness of his voice to be important though, and didn't query him. Instead, they changed the subject and continued onto a safer, less secretive subject.

Divination involved two hours of lecanomancy, so the students were glad to get out of the boring task when the bell finally rang. All except Hermione, of course, who was happily explaining that she was sure she'd seen something on the surface of the basin of water she had been gazing into.

"That's called your reflection, 'Mione," Ron muttered just too low for her to hear. Hermione carried on.

"Professor Carnaena's a much better teacher than Trelawney though, really. I mean, I don't mean any disrespect to her," ('_Want to bet?_' Harry thought) "but I really think I'm learning things now. Without all the theatrics and exaggerations, it's much easier to take the whole idea of divination seriously."

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose so. It's a lot harder now we can't just make up a load of rubbish for some dream diary. It's a pity to actually have a teacher who can figure out when you're spewing a load of crap."

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked. "If you're going to swear, can you at least not do it in the corridor when a teacher could pass at any second?"

Ron's ears turned a brilliant crimson. "Sorry, Hermione," he muttered like a scolded child.

"Now," sniffed the girl, having admonished her victim. "What do you want to show us, Harry?"

"It's the books I got from the library. I'll show them to you in a minute," Harry promised. "Truth be told, I haven't looked at them myself, I was so caught up with not being late for lunch. I don't really know what they're about."

Ron frowned. "How can you not know what books you took?"

Harry sighed as they came to a stop in front of the Fat Lady. "Flibble-sticks," he told her, causing the door to swing open. "That's part of what I want to tell you."

As soon as they had made it up to the dormitory and made excuses to get Dean out of the room, Harry pulled the books out from under his bed. There was still some dust ingrained into them, and a small cloud whooshed into the air as they were brought out.

"No-one was in the library when I went in, so I broke into the Restricted Section and got these," Harry admitted, a grin breaking out on his face as he saw Hermione's shocked and Ron's impressed expressions. "I just grabbed some, so I don't know what they are - but I think now's a good a time as any to find out."

Hermione frowned as she darted over and swept up the books to stare upon them. "'_The Codex of Important Black Magic_'? Harry, doesn't Black Magic contain Dark and Forbidden Magic?"

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "Well... yeah; but it wasn't as if I even looked at what books I was taking!" ('Though I may have attempted to steer myself to grabbing that particular book,' he smirked deep inside).

Ron looked, wide-eyed at the other titles. "You didn't do too well with the other choices, mate! '_Moste Terrible Magick of thee Soul and Spirite_', '_Instruction in the Arcane Art of the Shadowmancer_', '_Those Beings Best Left Forgotten_', '_Blood Magics and Control_', '_Black Magic for Wizards_' and '_Rituals Encompassing the Use of Deliberate Death as a Means for Magical Effects to Occur_' - bloody Hell, that's a mouthful!"

Hermione let out the gasp she'd been holding. "Harry! Why are all the books you've stolen, about - about Dark Magic, and Blood Magic, and Soul Magic and sacrifices - and... and - HARRY!"

The boy in question winced. "Well, what were the chances that I'd grab a book about fluffy bunny rabbits?"

"Ron, stop laughing!" Hermione fumed, "I can see you sniggering out the corner of my eye. Harry, I hope you just took these to show how good you are at sneaking around - because if you even think of reading these, I'll - well, I'll tell Dumbledore."

Harry and Ron's mouths dropped open. "You wouldn't!" Ron protested loudly.

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, yes I would." she said dangerously. "And until I can figure out a way to slip these books back into the Restricted Section, I'll be looking after them. Take a good look at them, gentlemen, because you won't be seeing these again." She gathered the books into her arms and made to sweep out of the room.

Harry leapt to his feet in fury. "Hermione," he hissed, eye flashing menacingly and hands balled into fists, "if you even think of taking those books away, or telling Dumbledore - or anyone - I'll make sure you_ never_ use the rod again. I didn't have to show you those books, but I did. I wasn't even planning on reading them, now that I've seen what they're about, but you've just given me a damn good reason to want to read every. Single. Word."

Hermione was staring at him in shock.

"Now," Harry growled pleasantly. "Give me the books."

Ron looked from one to the other worriedly as the stand-off continued in silence before, finally, Hermione's shoulders slumped, and she shoved the books into Harry's waiting arms. "Take them," she muttered, eyes cast down, before turning and fleeing.

The boys let out their breath in a pair of deep, thankful sighs, and even Ajax - perched on the window-ledge - looked mildly relieved.

"I can't believe she threatened to tell Dumbledore!" Ron said in wonderment. "Do you think she was bluffing?"

Harry shrugged, thinking it over. "I think she meant it at the time. I don't know if she'd have gone through with it, though."

"Are you really going to read those?" Ron frowned, changing the subject. "Or were you just saying that to get on Hermione's nerves?"

Harry's face hardened. "I'm going to read them," he swore. "I wasn't going to, but now she's done that, I'm going to read them just to get my own back. I know it's petty and spiteful and everything, but I don't care."

Ron sighed again. "Just don't get caught, mate. I don't want to see another article accusing you of being the next Dark Lord, just because you got caught flicking through a copy of a Black Magic book."

Harry smirked. "That's why I won't be caught. Do you mind if I use the rod?"

"Don't we need it for revision?"

Harry snorted. "It can fit about thirty-six-thousand, seven-hundred pages in it. I'm sure all these books together must be less than ten thousand, even if a few are pretty thick. There'll be plenty of room left for school stuff."

Ron looked reassured. "Okay then. But you're scanning them in."

"You do half, and I'll pay you." Harry argued.

"How much?"

Harry paused. "Ten Galleons."

"You're joking," Ron scoffed, eyeing the thick books. "Twenty Galleons and a dozen Chocolate Frog cards."

"Done," Harry promised. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Ron groaned. "Fine, but you'd better make sure I get my pay soon," he grumbled, sliding next to Harry and bringing the rod out of his pocket. "Right then... '_Black Magic for Wizards_' it is, then."

--------------------------

Three hours later, Ron had finished wearily scanning in the eight-hundred and six pages of the first book, while Harry had strolled out to Hogsmeade to buy a dozen Chocolate Frogs. When he returned, he tossed them at Ron.

"There's the first payment," he informed him, smiling. "You even get the frogs themselves as a bonus."

"I need the energy," Ron grumbled, "My arms bloody well feel like I've been lifting weights for half an hour."

"Three hours," Harry corrected, tossing himself down on the bed. "You should work out, like me. Then you'd have the stamina to do all the scanning without whining about it."

Ron glared at him witheringly, and pushed the rod and book towards him. "Yeah, maybe I could get the girls giggling over me like you, too."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Giggling? Ron, are you feeling all right?"

"Don't tell me you hadn't even noticed!" Ron gasped incredulously.

Shoving the book back under the bed with the others, Harry gave him a baffled look. "Noticed what?"

"The girls! Lavender, Parvati, some of the older Gryffindors - a good few of the Ravenclaws too - and a couple of Hufflepuffs. They've been fluttering their eyelashes at you for a while now!" He gave the other boy a rather dubious, sideways glance. "You can't say you really never saw anything."

Harry contemplated this for a second. "Well," he admitted, "I did see Lavender and Parvati looking and me and laughing on Saturday in the Great Hall. I haven't seen anyone else, though."

Ron groaned and thumped his head into the duvet. "Mate, are you certain it wasn't some other Harry Potter that got the top marks in Basic Auror Training?"

The scarred boy glared at him. "Lessons in teamwork and giving Dark Wizards and Beasts a good thrashing don't really include watching out for tittering girls. What's your point?"

"Harry," Ron bemoaned, "you can be a real idiot when it gets down to it. You've been having those late-night training sessions with Whoever-It-Is, you're eating too damn well for my liking, you've shot up about three more inches this year, you're playing Quidditch, you finally got rid of the glasses - not to mention your hairs natural style finally looks as if it were professionally cut. You," he concluded, "are making all those poor, hormonal girls hot under the collar."

Harry felt a slow, steady blush creeping up his neck. He felt distinctly hot under the collar himself. "You're mad," he grunted. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Go look in a mirror, mate." the slightly older boy yawned, "but I'm going to have some supper. I'm starving."

With that, Ron dragged himself up and out of the door, leaving Harry quite confused.

Insisting to himself that Ron was being quite daft, he strode into the bathroom down the corridor and studied his reflection. The mirror he was regarding himself in wasn't full-length, but it showed down to his stomach, and that was enough, he was sure.

It was true, his hair did look reasonably 'cool' in that messed-up, unstyled way, with the long fringe in front covering the top half of his scar. His green eyes were more striking thanks to the absence of his glasses, and there was no puppy fat (not that there had ever been, of course) on his face. Instead, his features were lean; sharp but elegant in all the right places, thanks to his eating habits.

His body was good too; his robes were on of course, so he couldn't consider it in any great detail (not that he'd want to anyway) but the combination of food, exercise, Quidditch and late-night training - with a little help from Basic Auror Training - had resulted in a powerful pair of arms; not bulging with muscles, but well-toned - and his torso was considerably more well-developed than when he had last checked some months ago.

He felt his chin, grimacing. He may have been of average height now, slim and athletic - but there was still no hint of the stubble that should have come a good time ago. Added up to the only-recent growth spurt and the obvious conclusion was that he was a late developer.

Still, he supposed gloomily, it could be worse: even if Ron and the other Gryffindor boys were using their shaving-charms every day and thinking nothing of it (which he knew they were), at least he was more than equal to them in the looks department. Harry allowed himself a wide smile.

--------------------------

The next day was the History exam, so after Ron disappeared off to the exam - they assumed Hermione had also gone, but there had been no contact with her since the previous day - Harry contented himself with scanning '_The Codex of Important Black Magic_' and '_Blood Magics and Control_' into the rod.

He uploaded all the three books within it onto the laptop's database of Learning, noting that there was more information on many of the subjects of the Restricted books on the Learning section. Shadowmancy and Blood Magic (whatever those were), Forbidden magic, and Soul magic, which Harry guessed was the subject of the book 'Moste Terrible Magick of thee Soul and Spirite'.

As he activated the rod, Harry took a great pleasure in this act - it was almost as satisfying as throwing the books in Hermione's face and screaming 'Guess what I just read!'.

The books on Black Magic both had introductions at the beginning; what Dark and Forbidden magic was, theories about it, mysteries surrounding them, famous and infamous examples; after that, both books also moved on to the actual spells, curses, summonings, potions and rituals.

In less than a minute, Harry was done with these two, and the book on Blood Magic came into his mind.

There was a much longer introduction to his - in fact, the whole book ran more-or-less like a study of it, rather than a spell-book. There were only thirty-seven spells to do with Blood Magic in the book, rather than the hundreds that were in the Dark books.

As the words of the extended opening poured into his head, Harry finally found out what Blood Magic really was. Blood magic was the use of - quite simply, as the name implied - blood in magic. However, instead of the blood acting as a minor ingredient, it was the whole focus of the spell or ritual, and it was a rare spell that used animal blood rather than human.

Blood magic could be used in many dozens of ways; to bind people together by sharing of blood, tracking spells, magical contracts that the person was forced to keep, the control of blood as it ran through the body - which meant you could clot it quickly to prevent bleeding, or boil it to kill the host; to call forth beasts from the blood and beasts that were blood... there were in fact, more than dozens of uses - there were myriads, and Harry was simultaneously repulsed and fascinated by it.

No wonder it was in the restricted section, even if there were few actual spells in the book; control over blood? That offered great power over life and death. An easy way to slaughter someone would be to stop their blood from pumping around their body until they suffocated to death - and who would ever realise what you had done?

Harry gave a small shudder, though he confessed to himself that he would learn more about it, even if it were only to defend himself against. He couldn't shake the guilty, niggling feeling, however, that he was quite ready and willing to use it - and that he might even want to.

--------------------------

After Ron had come back from the exam, quite exhausted, Harry tossed him an Oxtamed to banish his fatigued persona. "Come on," he announced, "we're going down to Hogsmeade."

Ron glanced at the unsteady pile of textbooks they had previously been planning to study, and Harry waved the idea aside. "No! We've done enough revision to pass every subject ten times over. We've got the Charms exam tomorrow, so let's make the most of the time we have left."

Ron gave in to Harry's decision, and the pair wandered down to the village; chatting excitedly in the Quality Quidditch Supplies Store, bemoaning the latest troubles of the Chudley Cannons and celebrating the arrival of Ron's Animagus license, which had arrived that morning.

By the time they arrived back at the castle, their pockets laden with Dungbombs and ink supplies, it was nearly dark, and they had just ten minutes until curfew. They raced the rest of the way, hurtling into Gryffindor Tower just as the clock in the common room chimed nine-pm, and crept up to the boy's dorm.

As they tiptoed up the stairs, Ron nudged his companion and whispered softly, "Do you remember that being here before?"

Harry glanced to where Ron was looking and frowned. "No," he said quietly. "Hold on, let's have a closer look."

They abandoned their climbing of the spiral staircase for a second, and huddled together over the object. It was placed in an alcove in the wall, where candles were usually placed to light the way to bed.

It was in the shape of a silver arrow, slightly thicker at its start than it was at the part that joined with the sharp tip; at its start, it had a small, circular hole running straight through from one side to the other. Harry looked at it interestedly. "It's a pendant, but it's missing a chain," he said in a low voice. "I dunno who dropped it here."

Ron snorted as quietly as he could manage. "Well I didn't think you would know. You have been at Hogsmeade after all."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Should we leave it here?"

Ron thought for a second. "Nah, someone might knock it down the stairs in the morning. Take it, and we'll give it to McGonagall tomorrow."

"Right," Harry agreed, carelessly shoving the silver item into a pocket.

They made their way to bed, and changed as quickly as they could, not giving the jewellery a second thought.

They didn't give it any thought in the morning either; they completely forgot about it, instead, and it remained lurking in the dormitory.

--------------------------

But why did Harry forget it? It wasn't simply that it slipped his mind; something else happened that night that Harry wasn't particularly happy about. For the first time in nearly a year - when he thought he'd finally got rid of them - a dream came. Not a nightmare, but one of those which he hated most; Voldemort.

Even if he knew the serpentine man was nothing more than some upstart, he was still a murderer and psychotic; and an ally of Leone's, it seemed.

_Harry stood in the bare, dank chamber, nearly leaning against the cold stone wall. The only furniture was a magnificent throne, carved out of what Harry recognised as yew - the same wood as Voldemort's wand. It was obviously made to impress his minions rather than for his own comfort; onto it were carved patterns that depicted people writhing and screaming in flames - and even more disgusting, Harry could see that the little images moved in life-like agony. _

_The snake-like visage peered out over a hunched up body, the long, ice-white fingers clutching the arms of the chair with elegant ease. _

_"Less than two weeks until the plan comes to an end," he hissed, forked tongue slithering over where his bottom lip should have been. Voldemort, of course. _

_Harry glanced around, wary of who he was talking to, and saw a figure standing on the floor in front of the Dark Lord. Leone, he realised with a jolt; she wasn't wearing robes, nor a mask, so she probably didn't have the Dark Mark: and from the way she stared proudly and fiercely towards him, it appeared she was not his servant. _

_"I'm fully aware of that little fact," she declared snappishly, "and that's the allotted time. I've planned it out, as I'll remind you. I'm offering you my very powerful assistance, and if you don't like my deal, then you can go ahead and try on your own. After all," she sneered, "I know how successful you've been in getting rid of Potter these last few years." _

_One corner of Voldemort's mouth slithered upwards. "No need for sarcasm, child. I'll use your assistance as much as I can while I have it, and I'll give you all mine as well. May I remind you that you've hardly been the best at destroying our little friend either?" _

_Leone's fingers clenched by her sides. "What you say is quite true, I'll admit. But this plan won't fail - and it was I who came up with it. This wouldn't even be possible without me -" _

_"Without the item and pet that you have," Voldemort amended smirking, holding up one finger in correction. _

_Leone pursed her lips. "Again, true. But then, it's your items and your little pets that give you power. Would you really be so impressive to the Wizarding world if it were just you?" _

_His eyes narrowed. "Enough of this banter," he bit out, "Is everything in place?" _

_"Everything's finalised," Leone informed him. "The bait will be set out on the day, and until then, there's nothing to worry about. Everything's going to plan. And as soon as your part of the deal's fulfilled, you'll get the daemon. I won't need it anymore, anyway." _

_Harry gave a jolt of horror. Voldemort? In charge of a daemon? At least Leone only seemed to have eyes for him, but the Dark Lord would be happy to set it loose on anyone without magical blood at any time. He crept forwards, though he knew they couldn't see him, to see their expressions in more detail. _

_Voldemort rose off his throne, silently and gracefully. "I will be checking on my 'pets' as you call them," he expressed, stepping down the two steps that led to the magnificent seat. "I'm sure you understand how important it is to have up-to-date information at an important time like this." _

_Leone glowered after him as he exited the chamber through a towering, black door. As soon as he was gone from sight though, her lips quirked up into a sneering smirk. "Gullible idiot," she purred gladly._

Harry woke up with a sharp shove.

"Charms exam today, mate," yawned Ron, bags under his eyes. "You'd better come down to breakfast, we've got to be in the classroom in an hour."

Harry blinked at this sudden return of everyday life, then shook his head clear. "I've got to speak to Dumbledore," he gasped out, throwing the covers off him and grabbing some clean robes.

"Why?" Ron cried in annoyance. "I think breakfast is a little more imp-"

"I'll have breakfast later, Ron," Harry snapped. "I just had -" he looked about to check Dean, Seamus and Neville weren't there; all three had gone down to breakfast, it appeared. "I had a dream," he finished lowly, "about Voldemort."

Ron flinched at the name, turning pale. "Did he - did 'e kill anyone?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "but he's got some kind of a plan, and I need to tell Dumbledore."

The other boy nodded weakly. "See you in half an hour, then."

"Right," said Harry grimly, pulling on his shoes.

--------------------------

It took just five hurried minutes to make it to the headmaster's office, and ten more to explain the dream. Dumbledore took it in his stride, asking questions only when Harry ended. When they had gone over it again from every angle, the old man leaned back thoughtfully.

"Less than two weeks from last night. Interesting. It sounds Harry, as though you are to be the target - hardly surprising, but still useful information."

"Sir, the item they were talking about - could it be the Myrrh Cage?"

Dumbledore looked unnerved by the desperation in Harry's voice. "I suppose it could be, though there's really too little information to be certain."

Harry urgently butted in again. "What if I'm not the only target, just the main one? What if - I don't know, there's an attack on the whole school, or something? What if the Death Eater's and the daemon are going to attack?"

The headmaster smiled kindly. "Harry, I believe I'm sensing a certain lack of faith in you. Although the Aurors and Unspeakables may have gone, they're still on high alert and we have a direct alarm to them. It only needs to be set off, and we'll have a dozen squads at our disposal.

"There are the wards to alert us, some very highly trained teachers, a good few of our spies with the enemy - and they can hardly come through the Forbidden Forest, so that's one less place to defend. The Merpeople are happy to help us in return for living here, and even the giant squid acts quite like a very slimy guard dog.

"And of course," he mused, looking deeply at Harry and nudging up the glasses that were falling down the bridge of his nose, "I'm sure that if the worst came to the worst, more than a few of the older students would be willing to help out. The enchanted castle defences themselves would hold off any number of attackers for several hours.

"No, Harry; I'm sure it will be a quiet attack like the last time. Someone will infiltrate the school, or lure you out. Voldemort is still too weak to launch a full attack; that is the main reason he's lying low. If he were planning such a huge assault, I can assure you my spies would have heard long ago."

Harry was relieved by these words of common sense. "Okay then."

"However," Dumbledore alerted him, "Just because the school is safe, does not mean that you are. I would prefer it if you remained in and near the castle for the rest of the month, at least. It should only be Care of Magical Creatures that you need to go particularly far for, and I'm sure that will be all right."

Harry's jaw dropped in astonishment. "Stay in the school? What about Hogsmeade? Or just going for walks?"

A piercing gaze met his. "Please, Harry. I understand that this attack is set for two weeks or less, but you must be kept safe. I hate to say this, but your destiny is to fight more than just Voldemort, and if you are eliminated before then..." He trailed off.

The boy's shoulders slumped. "All right," he growled, "but I'm... I'm... _damn_!"

A small smile broke out on Dumbledore's face, banishing the serious, solemn look in his eyes. "A marvellous point, Harry. Please, be on your guard. I'll need to follow this information up."

Harry nodded, and by the time he had made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, he was feeling much calmer about the situation.

He explained the problems to Ron: Hermione was sitting over at the far end of the Gryffindor table, ignoring them. It seemed she still hadn't forgiven them for the Dark magic books.

Ron wasn't entirely happy with the whole problem. "Well, at least it means more revision time inside," he said gloomily. Harry looked at him suspiciously.

"You've been hanging around Hermione too much," he grumbled. "Since when do you care about revision?"

"Since our OWLs started," the boy replied bleakly, shoving his sausages from one side of the plate to the other. "I dunno. I know I'm gonna pass 'em, especially thanks to the rod, but I still have that nasty feeling inside - you know, the pessimistic part that says you're going to fail whatever you do?"

"I don't have one of those," said Harry, quirking an eyebrow. "Are you sure that isn't indigestion?"

"Very bloody funny," Ron muttered.

--------------------------

The Charms exam was fast and easy; levitate a desk, banish a chair, summon a book, create a light, write a few essays, answer a few questions - it went on in the same style for two and a half hours, practical and theoretical.

There were three people being examined at a time; Harry was again in the middle of Parvati Patil and Dean Thomas. Though Parvati and Dean stumbled over the occasional spell, Harry simply remembered the wrist movements and incantations that were in the books he had 'read', and knew the only way he could lose marks were if he worded a question slightly imperfectly, or if his actual wand-movements slipped up on the way from his brain to his wrist.

Every spell he cast was perfect (except that his banishing charm was a little too strong and ended up hurtling into the legs of the examiner, who was quite all right with it, and seemed very impressed), and he left the classroom feeling fairly pleased with his accomplishments.

The rest of the day was spent with just Ron, in spiteful mimicking of Hermione's disregard. They scanned several books into the rod; '_Those Beings Best Left Forgotten_', about various Dark and Light sentient and semi-sentient races, as well as various unthinking beasts that were terrible enough that they had been hunted to extinction long ago; '_Moste Terrible Magick of thee Soul and Spirite_' which was about Soul Magic, gaining control over a person's very spirit (and Familiar if they had one), and one of the books he had brought back from Atlantis - '_Magical Duelling for Experts (Volume III)_'.

Ron refused to read any of them (he would probably have read the Atlantean book, but Harry kept that hidden in case of any questions about its origin or contents), insisting that he didn't want to get into any worse trouble with Hermione or any teachers who found out.

Harry himself mostly left the Soul Magic knowledge untouched in the back of his mind, feeling quite uncomfortable with it himself - it was more powerful than Blood Magic, allowing a person to trap or tear another's soul asunder; to summon the ghosts of the dead even, though that required over a decade of preparation.

There was certainly no sign yet of any surprise attacks, and Harry was quite sure Dumbledore was exaggerating the danger. After all, the man had listed all the school defences, and then taken even more precautions! Harry wasn't a child anymore; he'd seen his second corpse this year, and Trelawney's had certainly been a lot worse than Cedric's, even if he hadn't seen her die.

All the same, Harry remained indoors, pretending Hermione was invisible and only venturing particularly far off by himself to inform Levina of the dream's information.

She had been much less wary than Dumbledore, but even more interested. "Less than a fortnight?" she asked, her words almost identical to the headmaster's. "Could be useful. And this is the first dream you've had in a while?"

"In ages," Harry corrected. "The last time I had one was last school-year, before I went home for the Summer holidays." The woman looked even more interested at this.

But these usually came how often?"

Harry frowned. "About two or three times a year before; and they were always important events."

She looked thoughtful. "Now that _is_ curious. I'll have to follow this up." She turned to her bookcase and immediately started searching through them, muttering to herself fervently. Harry caught the words '_cross-dimensional magic stream_' and '_mana storm_' and decided it would be best to sneak back out of her office before he was told to help.

Well, with investigation or without...

It would be coming in less than two weeks.

--------------------------

While those at Hogwarts were making their plans, Commander Tom Fallow was undertaking his own. The Test was fast approaching, and it would prove whether Potter really was the Phoenix once and for all.

The Eclipse was coming, though he was not supposed to know it; if Voldemort defeated Potter, than the Phoenix would to be started anew. Commander Fallow wasn't entirely sure who he was hoping would win - the Phoenix he was giving all his cunning to protect, or the Dark Lord he was giving all his power to.

But what if both Potter _and_ Voldemort died? Who was the winner there? Would Potter be the Phoenix - or just someone who got a lucky strike in before he was eliminated? Fallow mused over the question as he filled out some more papers, a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

And what if the Eclipse itself went wrong? What if it couldn't be ended once it had begun; what if it wasn't what they thought, and was instead the utter destruction of the light source? Did an eclipse _always_ have to be temporary?

Fallow pushed some papers around his desk worriedly. The low-rankers in the Resistance; the Unspeakables, the spies, the 'red-shirts' and 'mooks' as they jokingly called themselves, all the expendables; they all seemed to think that the higher-ranking staff such as he and Lord Abyssay had all the answers.

It was far from true, he knew; a question to which the answer wasn't known could be answered with a curt 'That's classified', or a knowing smile, and the asker would go away confident that _someone_ knew what they were doing, and that they wouldn't have to know any more than they did themselves. If someone went too far in trying to find out what was really 'known', they could be quietly disposed of - sent to St Mungoes as a madman, never to be believed; killed; a Dementor's Kiss; or simply missing, never to be seen again.

But that certainly couldn't happen to one such as he. He was far too important - at his last check, he was fourth from the very top; in fact, if you only counted those who actually went and did the fighting, rather than overseeing the plans and their execution, he _was_ the very top.

Still, though... it was quite disappointing and a little worrying to know that there were still so many variables, so many unknown factors that could make or break this final, ultimate plan. They had the man-power; they had top-backing from Fudge and the high-ranking Ministry Officials (Magical _and_ Muggle) who left them to their own devices - they had money - they had influence - they had power.

They just didn't have the _time_.

They had ambled along at a leisurely rate for a couple of centuries, fiddling around with exactly how the inheritance of magic worked, selecting and thoroughly vetting the most powerful Witches and Wizards they could to breed the most powerful Phoenix possible; but they had never really thought it could happen in t_heir_ lifetimes.

In fact, it had only been over the last eight decades or so that the most recent three leaders had been quite adamant that they all get a move on, for they had been sure that the Eclipse - or the Test, as was the code-name for it - would be coming soon.

And now, here it was...

It would be coming in less than two weeks.

--------------------------

The leader of the Resistance, Lord Abyssay, was also currently thinking. This was more based on logical tactics that would be used in the minor skirmishes with the few servants of the Dark that came every now and again, however, rather than foolish, irrational worries.

Another cigar was lit. Another tiny plume of smoke curling into the air.

Potter... now there was an interesting one. First he'd defeated Voldemort. Then he'd spent years belittled and neglected, acting as a personal House-Elf to those relatives of his - unknowing of his magical skills. He'd only used magic five time as a baby, twice as a toddler, and two times again as a child.

That was strange in itself, for they hadn't put the blocks on him back then; a magical baby usually released a small burst of magic at least once a week or so, from something as simple as summoning a favourite toy to making their cries echo about the whole street. A toddler had slightly more control; an occasional burst every two months was normal as the body and mind restrained their abilities, with the help of the parents punishments or lectures.

A child would only perform accidental magic whenever they were in a furious temper or extreme joy - or in some cases, terror or danger.

Yet Harry Potter - bred from the most powerful of magic-users available to them - simply didn't follow the rules. They had previously assumed, Abyssay recollected, that the Dursleys had merely given him some kind of a temporary psychological block; their hate of magic when he performed had led to them to shouting at him, locking him in his cupboard and generally not acting like very happy-bunnies; so Potter had simple learned at a very young age to control his tempers and magic for fear of something magical happening.

But what if it wasn't that? What if it was something more? There were, of course, fast developers: there were records of young Witches and Wizards, both magical- and Muggle-born, who had mastered the art of keeping their powers in check before they even reached the age of seven.

Then there were weak Wizards, of course, who simply weren't _powerful_ enough to cause many (or at least noticeable) effects very often - but Potter certainly wasn't one of them, for what of his Patronus? Or his Annumagus abilities? And of course, Potter was an Enchanter; not particularly strong, for it was only as powerful as twice that of a normal Wizard, but it was still nowhere near weak.

Potter _could_ have had a psychological block, of course, or just an innate talent for quickly learning that 'unnatural' happenings weren't wanted in the Dursley household. But Abyssay didn't think so. It seemed, the Resistance leader deliberated, almost as if the little boy had his powers already under near-perfect control.

And those times he _did_ use magic were curiously strong and unusual ones. As said before, most spells were loudening or summoning charms - simple to use and for young babies to understand the meaning of; even their uncomplicated minds grasped the meaning of a sound becoming easier to hear, or something being brought to them. But Potter?

He had once, as a baby, Apparated from the bare crib in the Dursleys' lounge to the many toys in Dudley's room. How had he even known there _were_ toys in his cousin's room? They could have been in a box; in his Aunt and Uncle's rooms; in a place he didn't even know of.

He had never been in his cousin's room. Was it just that he Apparated to a random location, which _happened_ to be his cousin's room, and he _happened_ to appear in the middle of a heap of soft playthings?

Maybe when Satan ice-skated to work.

Abyssay picked up a fountain pen (no quills - ink bottles looked so unprofessional, and having to dip the nib into the black stuff every minute was quite time-wasting) and elegantly scrawled another few sentences onto the end of a recent report.

Apparition? By a baby? It had previously been thought impossible; it was quite a pity they hadn't been able to release any information on Potter's accidental magic to the public, for this one would have interested magical-theorists and physicists for years.

He Apparated once more, when he was a child - in escape from a gang of bullies, or some such thing. Not _as_ surprising, for instantaneous movement was much easier for a child to comprehend than for a baby - but all the same, the sheer power _used_ for such an act; accidental, untrained, and without any splinching - was astounding.

There were a few smaller acts here and there; a banishing charm, a hair-growth charm; even a transfiguration at his play-school, which needed an Obliviator's attention to wipe the memories of a teacher and several children.

Transfigurations were almost impossible for accidental magic to perform.

The aristocrat adjusted the charcoal, custom-tailored suit and tapped the pen thoughtfully. Once the boy had got to Hogwarts, his power seemed almost to have diminished. He required assistance from his friends to get to the Philosopher's Stone, needed help in the Chamber of Secrets from the phoenix and the Sorting Hat; it was only be chance that he happened to be going across the school grounds when Sirius Black was there.

In his fourth year, Crouch had helped him get through the first and second tasks.

Only in the third task, the ensuing duel with Voldemort - and perhaps in his summoning of the Patronus in his third year - had there been any real power shown.

It was very interesting to note, however, that Severus Snape had been given the instructions for a potion that Potter had devised - a cure for lycanthropy - and it appeared to _work_. How could Potter, usually an average student, leap so far into his studies and become so proficient in Potions in a single year?

He had taken two OWLs early, and passed them at nearly full marks; developed what looked like a successful cure for lycanthropy; and achieved a full Animagus transformation a long while before any of the others in his class. Top marks in Basic Auror Training, as well.

Strange, and it certainly would require more research...

Now though, there were more pressing matters - things that might interfere with the Eclipse. The dragon that had appeared twice now was no closer to being found, and some background-checking on the latest Divination teacher had found that all references had been false - they were perfectly fine until you dug deep enough.

So that was another problem to be sorted out - she could be working for the Five, she could be a third party, or she could be a nobody that merely didn't want anyone to know her past, for some obscure reason.

Lord Abyssay transferred the papers to the out-tray without even looking. They'd done a good job of covering up the daemon's murders - numbering nearly seventeen in total now: it was imperative that the news of the daemon didn't become public, especially so close to the Eclipse. If people found out it was still on the loose and killing, then the Ministry would be forced by the public to increase security and hunt it down - but it was far too important. Without the daemon, the whole plan might fall apart.

Dumbledore was doing a good job; Potter wasn't suspicious, and it was unlikely he would become so in the time left remaining. Everything was going as planned, on schedule and without any nasty little surprises so far...

It would be coming in less than two weeks.

--------------------------

The beast that cantered around several acres of Thetford Forest was no longer recognisable as the golden unicorn foal it had once been. Levina had cared for it when it was younger, and as it went through the change - knowing the agony it was going through, the torture caused by the bloody bones that ripped their way out from the inside.

It wasn't in any pain now; nearly a year and a half in age and already without a mother, it called plaintively for those that had once been its herd. Nothing answered.

--------------------------

"Do you think she's ever going to speak to us?" Ron muttered at breakfast the next morning. Harry followed his gaze over to the other end of the table, where Hermione sat, chatting with Ginny and pretending the two boys didn't exist. "I mean, all right, it was pretty bossy with her - but I can't say I'm entirely happy about you reading those Dark Arts books myself."

Harry felt a spark of anger inside him. "Yeah, well." he said, not meaning anything in particular. "When she comes to apologise to me, _then_ I'll forgive her."

"Okay," said Ron uncomfortably, shifting slightly in his seat. "But - well - what if she's the one in the right?"

Harry banged his cutlery down on the plate, getting a few stares until he glared at them. "I don't see anything wrong with _reading_ a few books. It's not like I was planning to _use_ any of the spells in them, so why shouldn't I?"

He was up and sweeping out of the room before Ron could reply.

He did feel more than a little guilty, he had to admit. Perhaps Hermione thought she was doing the right thing... still, he decided, there was no harm in what he had done. What harm ever came from reading a book? Well, except the ones that made you speak in rhyme and what-not; but there certainly weren't any of those in the dormitory.

Did Hermione even have the right to tell him what and what not to do? Of course not! The books themselves weren't dangerous, she should see that; and just because he read them, didn't mean he was going to run off and start using Dark magic left, right and centre.

Pulling a face, Harry wondered whether he should be the first to apologise. It wasn't really fair that Ron, who hadn't even _wanted_ to see the books, had been forced to choose sides - even if he made Hermione choose sides he previous year, when he and Harry were arguing.

Harry checked the watch that the twins had given him. Nearly two hours until the Transfiguration exam, and he was certainly not in the mood for it. He was depressed, more than little angry, and he couldn't help feeling slightly hurt by Ron's uncertainty.

Harry shook his head and made his way up to the dormitory, to read a few of the rods he had brought back from Atlantis, and study some more Techno-Magic. The portraits lazily watched him pass by; in a secret passageway behind a worn old tapestry, Draco Malfoy watched him pass as well, a nasty gleam in his eyes.

Slipping out from the hidden corridor, he masked his expression again and slipped off in the opposite direction from Harry. In case anything went wrong, he had a stand-by plan to take care of.


	21. Chapter 21: Black Ebony

Chapter 21: Black Ebony 

"Our strategy is to destroy the enemy from within, to conquer him through himself." - Adolph Hitler 

--------------------------

By the time Harry left for the Transfiguration exam, he was feeling a lot better. '_Daemonology and Daemon Summoning Volume Three_', '_Magical Art for the Sorcerer_' and '_Wizardries for Illusionists_' had disappeared off into his mind, he had studied some more Techno-Magic (specifically, controlling technological devices - he was looking forward to having a lot of fun at the Dursleys, this Summer) and he had even managed to have a short chat with Rhiannon, who was in an incredibly good mood - this was most likely due to the fact that she had stole- sorry, 'liberated' what amounted to about four-hundred thousand dollars from some rich crook. Apparently the FBI were investigating.

This amused Harry no end - there would of course be no trace or clues for the agency to follow up, and it was quite entertaining to think of how stumped they must be - and he was in a distinctly more cheerful mood hen he joined the queue outside the Transfiguration classroom, where the examiners were checking people's wands and passing out special quills.

"Sorry about blowing a fuse at breakfast," Harry whispered to Ron. The other boy looked at him as though he had grown three heads. "Sorry - I mean, about losing my temper," Harry corrected himself, remembering Ron's Pureblood upbringing, and the fact he probably had no idea what a fuse was.

"Oh, that's all right," Ron said, looking more relaxed now. "Although to tell the truth, I would prefer it if you apologised to Hermione; but whatever you do's up to you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. I'll apologise to her tomorrow, okay? Give her a bit more time to calm down, get my bearings, and then beg for forgiveness."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, and you'll have finished reading the books then, won't you?"

"That too," Harry admitted.

They shut up as one of the invigilators demanded silence and rammed the door open, watching them with beady eyes. "Good luck," Harry uttered out of the corner of his mouth, and Ron gave a tiny bob of the head to wish him the same. Harry scuttled forwards to his assigned place in the line as the students marched in to take their places.

--------------------------

The exam was harder to most students than the previous ones, but Harry found it one of the easiest by far. The multiple-choice questions were easy enough, the essay questions were fine once he'd searched through his mind for the right chapters of the books, and in the practical - which they each did in private - Harry found his Illusionist aptitude made short work of the demands given. Before leaving, he picked up extra marks with his cobra form.

"How did you find it?" he asked Ron as they met up again at lunch. Ron, who had just finished his own practical, was a little pale.

"The writing was fine," moaned the other boy, "but I just froze up when we went onto the practical. I had the really strict examiner, and he just kept glaring at me!"

"Did you do okay?" Harry asked worriedly.

Ron gazed moodily down at his egg. "Dunno. I mean, I did most of the stuff, but my wand movements were crap. I think I got some more points with my wolf Animagus form, anyway."

"Well, there you are then," said Harry optimistically. "The wand movements don't really matter, as long as you cast the spell right - and if you _did_ miss any, the Animagus form will more than make up for it. I bet the invigilator doesn't have a license!"

Ron brightened a little, and his appetite picked up. Harry saw Hermione and Ginny glancing their way more than once, though their head quickly shot back to their plats once hey saw h had noticed them. '_Girls_,' Harry thought, amused. He nudged Ron. "Don't forget, you've still got to scan in those other two books."

Ron groaned. "Don't remind me. They're at least four-hundred bloody pages each. And that one with the long title - '_Magical Rituals Using Death_' or whatever - "

"'_Rituals Encompassing the Use of Deliberate Death as a Means for Magical Effects to Occur_'," Harry adjusted.

"Whatever," Ron grumbled. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure that title's just a nice way of saying it's got sacrificial rituals in it."

Harry frowned. "Sacrificial rituals? What - like the one Leone was going to do to me?"

"Not exactly that one, but... well, there's loads of Forbidden magic and Dark magic that needs animals - or worse - to be killed for the ritual to happen. Not like, a few drops of blood; you actually have to kill someone, and usually it's not in very nice ways. Apparently," he hissed, leaning closer, "they have to be awake while they die."

Harry was reminded sickeningly of the sacrifice of the King and Queen of Cyrin, at the temple in Atlantis.

He was quiet for a moment, not feeling very hungry anymore. "It's not like I'm going to use it," he decided aloud. "No - I'm still going to read it," he said more confidently. "If you don't want to scan it in, that's fine; I'll do it myself. But the more I know about things, the easier it will be to defend myself; and I don't think Voldemort would stop before using something like that."

Ron nodded, accepting what Harry said; but Harry couldn't quite help feeling as though he simply wanted to read the book for its own sake, rather than _his_ safety.

As he looked up again, glancing across the room (he noticed Angelina Johnson had received her Animagus license in the owl post that morning), he caught sight of Malfoy, who was perusing through the Daily Prophet, looking extremely bored. Briefly, Harry wondered how the boy was dealing with everything - his father being a spy, being thrown off the Quidditch team, and being informed of some age-old prophecy that was secret ken.

"Coming to Hogsmeade?" Ron asked suddenly, snapping Harry out of his reverie.

Harry shook his head. "No; if I'm going to apologise to Hermione, I want to get the books out of the way first. Besides," he said gloomily, "banned from Hogsmeade for the rest of the month, remember?"

Ron sighed. "Dumbledore should have given you something to make up for it. I mean, it's like you've been punished, even though you haven't done anything wrong!"

"Well, I suppose I could explore the castle or something," Harry shrugged. "Besides, I'll be pretty busy with exams for another week, anyway. Then there's only another week until the month's over; at least I'm not banned from Hogsmeade for the rest of term."

"Maybe you could sneak out? Under your Invisibility Cloak?" suggested Ron brightly.

Harry perked up. "Yeah, that's an idea! I mean, I bet the daemon would still be able to smell me - but Leone isn't stupid enough to attract attention by throwing it out into the middle of public to attack me, when she's got some big plan going."

"Well, she is a nutter," Ron pointed out. "But still, you've got a good point. I mean, you've got barely any freedom; you haven't used your broom since the Quidditch finals."

"Hm," said Harry, not really listening. He was too busy remembering the Trophy Room, with the Quidditch Cup tied with the two Gryffindor ribbons, one golden and one scarlet, and the Swedish Broom Race trophy, which had his name magically carved into the plaque at its base.

"Done daydreaming?" Ron grinned. "Come on, you have to admit it isn't fair; you get Quidditch and Hogsmeade taken away from you, and what do you get in return?"

"Safety?" Harry suggested. Ron looked at him pointedly.

"Yeah, mate. Really nice. No, seriously, what has he given you?"

Harry thought a moment longer. "A chance to not get my head ripped off and used as a football?"

Ron puzzled over this, before deciding, "Nah, your head's the wrong shape. Dumbledore had given the grand total of _nothing_. And by nothing, I mean _nothing_. Just a 'stay in school and be a good boy, Harry'. That's it. Nothing to keep you occupied. No hints of secret passages or rooms, no extra lessons, no _nothing_."

"Double negative," Harry said under his breath, as Ron continued.

"Harry, mate, we need to have something to do. It's fine for you, you've turned into a right Ravenclaw, sticking your head in every book available. But there's only so many games of chess and Exploding Snap you can play before you collapse in a coma, and without Hogsmeade or flying, you're going to be a bloody vegetable by next week. So," he finished bluntly, rapping the table, "what. Are. We. Going. To do?"

Harry shrugged again. "Dunno."

"Thank you, Mr Bloody-Useful," snapped Ron irritably. "Come on, you must have some idea?"

The black-haired boy pondered this. "Well, I'll probably read some more... practice my other Annumagus transformations... that sort of thing. Might try to find out what happened to the Marauders' Map."

"Dumbledore might know," Ron proposed. "I mean, Crouch might have left it in his office, and if so then Dumbledore would probably have got hold of it."

"Or it could have been thrown away as scrap paper," added Harry. Ron winced.

"Yeah, that could have happened. Still, you have to hope."

They finished their meals and ambled up to the dormitory to scan in the remaining two books, considering the various ways to pass the time.

--------------------------

At breakfast the next day, Harry and Ron weaselled themselves on either side of Hermione, Ron discourteously shifting his little sister from her place. Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Ginny, there's a pair of rats at the table. Think I should get Crookshanks?"

"Hello, 'Mione," said Ron pleasantly. "How are you today?"

Harry shot Ron a look that clearly said '_Let me handle this_'. Ron cleverly missed it completely.

"Harry and I were wondering if you mi- what?"

"Perhaps," Hermione hissed venomously, "if you are trying to apologise to me, you might actually let _Harry_ do it, seeing as how he _was_ the one who acted like a juvenile."

Harry felt quite insulted by this; he was pretty damned sure that he acted at least his age, and that Hermione was the one being immature - acting as though she was the responsible adult who had every right to confiscate property from the naughty little boys. He had a good feeling, however, that saying this aloud wouldn't regain her friendship.

"Hermione," he said, formally and reasonably, secure in the knowledge that the entire contents of the final two books were sitting in his head, waiting for him to study them. "I'm sincerely sorry for any offence I may have caused to you, in regards to the books that I was ill-advised to have."

Hermione stared at him.

"He means sorry," Ron translated.

Ginny mimed banging her head against the dinner table. "I know what he meant!" Hermione snapped, still glaring daggers straight at Harry. "And I also know that you didn't mean a word of it."

"I did!" contested Harry, offended.

"Yes, you meant you were sorry about causing me any offence," she sniffed, "but I didn't hear you apologising anywhere for actually acting like an immature idiot and reading books that are certainly far above your level."

Harry gawped silently at her in amazement, before sputtering out, "Above my _level_?!"

"Well, you're hardly likely to be able to understand or use anything you read in them," Hermione sniffed, "Dark magic isn't like most little charms - you have to actually _understand_ what you're doing, and all the power in the world let make you cast Dark magic if you haven't got the brains to work it out."

Now Ron was staring.

"Ron," Harry seethed, "We're leaving. Come on."

Ron leapt up as Harry shoved himself off the bench and stormed out of the Great Hall, reminding many of the lunching students of Snape in another of his foul tempers.

Harry, meanwhile, had his mind locked in a blank state of complete disbelief and furious anger. It was outrageous! How _dare _she! Just because she had the IQ of bloody Einstein, she thought everyone else was a thick-headed twat? That - that _complete _and _utter_ (he though several words that couldn't possibly be placed in a PG-13 fic, even though children have heard them all by the age of ten).

Well, she could go and flounce off to study in the library, and hopefully she'd die in there and not be discovered and rot and -

"Are you even listening to me?" Ron asked for the fourth time. Harry's head snapped round.

"Oh... right, yeah. What?"

"I _said_," repeated Ron, sounding quite faint, "I can't believe she actually had the nerve to say that! In fact, I can't believe it _ever_ crossed her mind! Tell you something mate, your reading those books must have hit her pretty hard."

"It wasn't anything _I_ did," Harry retorted, a little sulkily. "I went over to apologise, and what does she do? Throws a complete fit, chucks me out on my ear, and - more importantly - calls me a complete idiot, who couldn't find his own arse without a map and a company of Sherpa guides!"

"She didn't say that _exactly_," Ron admitted, "but yeah, that's what she insinuated. Bloody Hell... what's wrong with her?"

"I don't care." Harry announced waspishly. "I don't mind if _you_ make friends with her, but I'm having nothing to do with her again, _ever_." He shot the words forwards like bullets.

"That's a bit far, isn't it? I mean, isn't it going a tad overboard? I know you're upset with what she said - I know I would be - but once you've calmed down, and she's realised what a prat she's been -"

"I don't care." Harry said again. "She can apologise 'til the world ends, but I'm not going to forgive her."

"You'll feel different about it by tomorrow," Ron warned; but it didn't look as if it would hold true - several hours later as they sat down for their Divination exams, Harry was still furious about the verbal betrayal of someone he had once counted as one of his two closest friends. How could someone so brilliant act so childish?

Harry had to admit that he lapsed a bit in that exam; the essay questions he rushed out, scrawling wildly, so furious was he, and later on he was quite certain that he had missed several points.

Again, they were examined individually on their practicals (in case they put each other off). Harry lay out tarot cards and read tea cups easily, quite certain that they were a load of nonsense, dutifully reciting the meanings of various signs and portents.

He gazed into a fire and made up some nonsense about a birth in the examiner's family, read the I Ching, and finally (it wasn't soon enough for Harry, who was ready to fall asleep of boredom, Oxtamed or no Oxtamed) the examiner announced the final section.

She pulled a crystal ball out from under the little tables dainty covers, and swept it out of the velvet bag. The crystal sphere was unceremoniously plonked down on the squat wooden stand.

"Now," the woman said heartily, beaming at Harry. "Just take a peek, and tell me if you spot anything."

Harry inched a little closer, relaxed his mind like the textbook had told him and - wishing he had revised more for Divination than just a single textbook and a few dozen pages from the laptop - peered down into the ball.

It was perfectly transparent, unlike the quartz or beryl ones they used on occasion. Harry had a nasty feeling that he was just staring straight through onto the table and missing whatever was happening _inside _the orb.

Trying to focus around the centre of it, Harry squinted, and then realised he was trying too hard. Relax, he told himself firmly. Turn off the rational mind, let the subconscious come through - that's what the book said. He followed the instructions, letting his mind wander off onto the no subject.

A minute passed, and then a minute more, and Harry was starting to feel distinctly aware of the woman's piercing gaze in the back of his mind.

A second before he seriously considered making up something though, he caught a sudden glimpse of a shockingly blue mist that curled and drifted lazily about the centre, like tendrils of smoke.

Trying not to concentrate in case it disappeared, Harry kept watching only vaguely, but found that suddenly the mist was all he _could_ concentrate on - the examiner,

the room, himself - all were suddenly unimportant and non-existent. Only the unfolding smoke, that carefully shed its mysteries like a blooming flower, could be seen.

As specks of beings appeared and became clearer, Harry heard his voice telling the examiner what was happening. He sounded, he thought dreamily somewhere in the back of his mind, as though he were sleep-talking - but that thought faded away as quickly as it came, because he didn't exist, so how _could_ he think?

"_There's a man,_" Harry said vaguely, "_he's trapped, but he isn't sure whether he dislikes it where he is._"

He may have heard someone, somewhere, asking who the man was, where he was trapped - so he answered, just in case. "_He's me._" his voice rolled out lazily. "_He's trapped in a shape... a time... but they're the same. He doesn't know whether he should be or not, but he knows it's his own fault - because he let it happen._"

Something else materialised in the mist, some other emotions and something else - something deeper, that he could understand and see as though it had a solid form. The whole situation could be seen, like having an omniscient, omnipresent mind.

"_There are two men, trapped in the same way, and crosses around the necks of a pair of murderers. A group of black-suited no-ones are hunting the dream of a man they've never met, and a man giving his life to speak and listen but never do, does. _

"_Guns at high-noon, blessed by divine inspiration, now forgotten. A piece of unreal reality, locked away for a millennium, with thirteen nonsensical keys for thirteen practical locks. A moment in a lifetime, a torture that many would and do die for, is the greatest freedom and gift that no-one could ever want nor need._"

The voice said something else, and his own mouth shaped another word. "_Five._"

That said, he came back to reality with a jolt, staring panicked into the examiner's face. She was grinning madly at him, marking several ticks on her papers. "Excellent, Mr Potter, well done! The best one so far, though I shouldn't be telling you that."

Harry blinked at her. He hadn't really seen anything; just an older version of himself - and he wasn't even sure how he knew it was himself, for he could only see a silhouette - the rest had just been the mist unfurling... well, unfurling what could only be described as the form of _knowledge_. There was no substance to it, no shape, but he knew exactly what was going on - except he didn't - and...

He scrunched his shoulders up to his neck. This was starting to give him a headache.

And what was that stuff he'd seen, he wondered as he was ushered down the stairs. Guns at high noon? What did that mean? Murders and crosses? Keys and locks? Traps, and black-suits and men who talk? And what did the number five have to do with anything?

Harry shook his head, wincing as he realised he'd already got the headache he had been trying to avoid.

--------------------------

Harry read two more of his books that night - '_Enchantment for Illusionists_' and '_A Discussion of the Wartime Use of Swords_' - before being particularly violent in staff-training with Levina, where he was progressing faster than he had with swords: he was already onto a full-sized staff, and his arms ached after every fight.

He had quite a bit of natural talent, it seemed, but he still felt slightly uncomfortable with it. He was hoping to move onto dagger fighting after this and unarmed combat; the beautiful half-foot blade that Levina had given him for Christmas remained packed inside his trunk, unused.

The next day blessed the students with sunny skies and warm, light breezes - although certain members of the fifth and seventh-years had no way to take advantage of this. While the final year were taking their Potions NEWTs, Harry's year (some of them, at least) were attempting a Protective Magic, Grade 3 E-Level.

There were only four pupils attempting it; Harry, Ron, Hermione (Harry and Ron ignored the girl, and vice versa) and a sixth year Ravenclaw who Harry didn't know.

The examiners explained a few things; that most who attempted the E-Level, even at the lowest grade, were usually in their twenties, and so they weren't expected to pass - instead, it was a preparation for if they wanted to do the E-Level in future, and to see how well they performed.

Ron gave Harry a thumbs up as they each were led away to separate rooms, to be examined individually. Luke MacFlane - Harry's examiner - looked about forty, with greying-hair and a neat moustache that quivered whenever he made a sharp movement.

He watched Harry closely as the boy brought out a quill. "Practical first, boy," he barked, "Wand only."

Harry quickly whipped his wand out of the holster he had received on his birthday, holding it up as if for inspection. The older man barely gave it a glance, before motioning Harry to the centre of the room.

The practical was long and exhausting - they were the only words for it, if you didn't include 'takes eternity', 'boring' and 'makes you want to drop down dead from tiredness'. Harry, however, only learnt this last fact from the sixth-year Ravenclaw, afterwards - he and Ron had both taken Oxtamed, and although it was certainly boring (and Ron's magic was getting pretty weak before he was half-done), neither of them felt tired.

There were two E-Levels which had the same aim; Protective Magic and Defensive Magic. Protective Magic was based simply on shields and wards; magic that would prevent any spell or object from passing through once it had been put up. Defensive Magic, however, was concerned with specific counter-curses; its aim was to neutralise or negate dangerous magics quickly - when shields hadn't been put up, and the intended victim had to act quickly or be hit.

Harry had only to deal with Protective Magic, but this was more than enough to make him bored with casting only slightly varied spells over and over again, as MacFlane sent dozens of different spells and objects hurtling towards him. The items bounced off, incinerated, or stuck to the shield, while the spells ricocheted off, were destroyed or absorbed into the shields.

The wards were slightly harder; a much-simplified version of the Fidelius Charm made part of the room unnoticeable to MacFlane's eyes, another let only certain objects through; and after several more, Harry finally (with much concentration) managed to key one so that only people of a certain bloodline could pass through.

Feeling as though he had run a marathon, Harry collapsed into a chair on the examiner's command, staring blearily down at the paper. It looked more like a broadsheet newspaper, so big was it, and Harry almost felt like giving up there and then.

"Don't look so upset," the man growled over Harry's shoulder. "The next paper's only slightly bigger."

Harry banged his head against the table twice, before dragging the quill into his grasp and beginning.

--------------------------

"Ngh." Ron grunted at supper. It was practically the only thing he _could_ say, since he had nearly collapsed as he had left his exam. Harry gave a small groan in reply.

Ron had managed to make it out a long time before Harry (neither of them knew why, and they didn't particularly care). Hermione had finished a while before Ron, or so the red-haired boy thought - when he had left the classroom, he hadn't seen her exit the room she was being examined in herself.

"I hope you two are happy," Ginny announced, appearing over their shoulders. "Hermione's crying in the girls' bathroom." Harry paused at this, his spoon halfway to his mouth, and gave Ron _The Look_.

"Are we meant to care?" he sniffed. Ginny looked exasperated.

"I know she was a bit uppity with you, and I know that whatever you argued about is apparently 'none of my business'," she continued, rolling her eyes and making quote marks, "but-"

"Exactly!" Ron snapped. "She was _far_ too 'uppity' with us, and it's none of your business. So just sod off and mind your own, all right?" He turned sharply away and resumed eating. Harry followed his lead, while Ginny watched on in disgust.

"Boys," she scowled, turning on her heel and stalking away.

"I can't believe her," grumbled Ron as he forced down a mouthful of pudding. "How can she take Hermione's side after she heard what that cow said?"

"Maybe girls just stick together, or something," Harry said ruefully. "I feel like an early night tonight; all that shield-casting's worn me out."

Ron nodded his agreement, and they made their way up to the dormitory, stopping only to beg Madam Pomfrey for a few sips of Invigoration Potion.

They spent the rest of the day lazing about in the dorm; playing chess and Exploding Snap until Ron called it a day; whereupon Harry sneaked the laptop out of his chest and chatted with Rhiannon some more, before revising a few thousand pages worth of spells of Blood and Soul magic.

Rhiannon was only too happy to inform him that not only had she amassed a grand total of nearly eight-hundred thousand dollars (though she swore that unless Harry actually _did_ something, she was going to keep it for herself; he quickly made up his mind to get involved as soon as possible). Interestingly, he also learned from her gossip that the other Apprentice - the boy in Hong Kong - was now a full Techno-Mage in the Adept level; his own laptop had apparently appeared, and he often came online to chat now that he had his own.

However, there were still three Apprentices; someone else had obviously been chosen as a Techno-Mage; but as they had never entered Techno-Chat, Rhiannon had no idea who they were. She suggested that the Mage who had previously been training the ex-Apprentice might have taken a new Apprentice, but she wasn't sure.

She and Harry remained at the lowest of the four levels of study; Beginner. He had to admit (rather disappointedly) that he hadn't been doing much studying of it; he was mainly focusing on school and Levina's training: promising himself that he would start paying more attention to the laptop, Harry finally shut it down for the night and prepared for the next day.

--------------------------

As the days passed, so did the exams - and Harry was never more thankful that time seemed to be flying by. He finished the last of the books and rods he had brought back from Atlantis; he revised the ways to train an Apprentice in Techno-Magic; he learned several more useful moves in staff-fighting (and also downloaded some beginners information on dagger-fighting and savate from the laptop, just in case).

Added to this, he managed to perfect his raven Annumagus form and joined in a large party in the Gryffindor Tower; Fred and George had (somehow) managed to secure a loan to cover the rent of the building they had been looking at in Hogsmeade - they couldn't scrape up enough to buy it, but they were confident that they would have after a year or so of it being open.

As said before, however, the exams passed too - Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures (in which Pansy Parkinson had to be sent to the Hospital Wing, after having her arm gored by the Crup that had been sweet and lovable just seconds before she held it).

Harry was the only one who attempted Amulet Making E-Level; he was one of only four that were still even doing the classes, for so many people had dropped out of it altogether - it required simply too much memorisation and detail for most people's tastes.

Hermione remained as aloof and unapproachable as ever, and Harry could see that Ron was beginning to become uncomfortable with the situation. To take the other boy's mind off it, he decided to start the search for the Marauders' Map; there was no luck, however - Dumbledore professed not to have seen it during the clean-up of Crouch's office or classroom, and jaunt to Filch's own office under guise of night and the Invisibility Cloak didn't turn up any leads. It seemed as if the Marauders' Map might have been well and truly lost.

Harry had written a letter to Sirius soon after this, requesting suggestions - and if he had no ideas, a method of creating a new map (though he was sure there was a very good chance of finding it on the laptop) - while Ron stared out the window, lamenting their entrapment.

"You can go down to Hogsmeade or the lake whenever you want, so _go_," Harry insisted after he couldn't stand the other boy's moping about any longer. Ron's face lit up, and he quickly acquiesced, leaving Harry to study the effects of Brinlout toxin; a venom that was golden in colour until it was added to another liquid, whereupon it would become virtually untraceable - transparent, tasteless and smell-less.

There were only two exams left - Astronomy and Spell Creation, which should both be exceptionally easy. Astronomy was simply a load of memorisation of star and planets, facts and figures, sunspots and comets, while Spell Creation would just be writing about various theories and such-like; the practical had already been marked (Snape had conceded to give some of the Canusabeo over to Harry; he would be entering the cure as his own work, and as it had apparently passed all the St. Mungoes tests so far, it was eligible to be accepted by the examiners).

He was right, he found as two more days passed; the Astronomy exam was pretty easy (though not quite as much as he had been expecting) and the Spell Creation E-Level - only he, Neville and Hermione attempted it - was even easier. Magical theory and manipulation were the only subjects he'd had to revise, and he was certain he had passed; to gain a pass grade in E-Levels, you had to score eighty percent or more.

That night (and the one before) had seen several large-scale parties around the castle, with drink and food flowing freely. Harry and Ron were only happy too take part in these; the exams were over, the month of staying inside had just over one week left to go, and the Summer holidays were coming up in less than a fortnight.

The Gryffindor party went on into the early morning, cheers and congratulations on OWLs and NEWTs ringing round the Tower, before Harry and Ron finally stumbled up to the dormitory.

"What did-" Harry began, but was immediately cut off by Ron's snores. Looking behind him, he could that Ron had instantly collapsed on his bed, and was fast asleep.

Harry yawned himself, checked the time. Neville was asleep as well; Dean and Seamus were downstairs in the Common Room along with a dozen others, laughing and joking. The sun wasn't even visible above the Forest, and when Harry checked his watch, he saw why. It was ten minutes to three in the morning, and he should have been asleep ages ago. Thanking the faculty that there would be no lessons for the remainder of the term, now that exams were over, Harry considered taking an Oxtamed and researching some more Techno-Magic.

"Might as well," he muttered, rubbing his left eye. He crept over to his chest and pulled the keys out of his pocket, before unlocking it as quietly as he could. Then he frowned.

In the fifth compartment, where he kept his magical items - Sneakoscope, laptop, Oxtamed, Charmometer, Seeing Stones, wristwrite, Snitch, magical figurines, and the dagger that Levina had given him. Now, however, there was another object. But surely he'd had the keys all day? Yes, he was sure he had - and this hadn't been in there when he had checked this morning.

"Ajax!" he hissed, wanting to know if the Familiar had seen anyone - but the bird just gave a croak in its sleep, and went back to silence. "Lazy bird," Harry muttered.

Suddenly, he froze. He knew what this object was - the black bag made of crushed velvet, and the shape of the object within - a perfect sphere.

The Myrrh Cage was here.

Right in his own trunk.

Letting out a gasp, Harry snatched it up, feeling the weight of it; it was surprisingly light for its size. With unsteady fingers, Harry released the cord hat held the bag closed and opened it, gazing in at it. It was exactly as he had last seen it - except that the biggest Teller - the longest of the black marks, one that had stretched nearly all the way around it - was gone. Of course one of them would be, though... after all, they were there in proportion to the numbers of daemons contained inside them, and one of the daemons had been released...

Harry reached in and fumbled with the smooth surface, before pulling it out and away from the velvet bag. As soon as the container dropped to the floor, however, Harry knew it was a mistake. A feeling that he knew and dreaded began - a tug at his lower stomach, and a dizzy, sickening feeling that made his head whirl.

Harry tried to let go of the Cage, to grab his wand from the holster, but it was too late - his arms wouldn't obey him. Instead, they stuck to the orb he held, no matter how much he tried to tug them away.

Portkey, a dull voice in the back of his mind said, while the rest was awhirl with panic and confusion and the nauseating giddiness that such objects caused. Finally, he opened his mouth to cry for help -

But it was too late.

Harry Potter disappeared from Hogwarts.

--------------------------

As Lord Abyssay worked in silence but for the scratching of the pen, a repetitive beep disturbed the peace.

The scratching paused... the noble turned slightly to the side of the ornate desk, where a blue light blinked urgently on and off, emitting a shrill alarm as it did so.

Abyssay allowed a small smile to slip. Reaching out to press an intercom button, the resistance leader said five simple words. "It's begun. Ready the troops."

--------------------------

As Harry fell to his knees on the hard ground, he immediately tried to rise and grab his wand.

"Immobilus," a lazy voice said, which put a stop to that at once - Harry froze in place, unable to move. "Accio Myrrh Cage," released the sphere from his grasp and sent it hurtling somewhere out of sight - but Harry's eyes were stuck firmly on the ground, and he couldn't see where. "Accio wand," the voice completed, and that too was gone. "Welcome, Potter. I seem to have you at my mercy, again."

Now Harry recognised the voice - he tried to speak the name in disgust, but his tongue and lips wouldn't move; it was all he could do to keep breathing, and his eyes were watering for want of blinking. He was only glad it was dark; if it had been any brighter, his eyes would have been in agony already.

It was Leone, of course, and he was ashamed that he didn't realise from the moment he heard the first spell. No, he was ashamed he hadn't realised it was her from the very second that such a dirty trick was pulled. It was her style of course, to trick him - not meet him in open battle. '_Looks like stepping outside wouldn't have put me in any more danger_,' Harry thought angrily. And where _she_ was, would be the daemon... and -

Voldemort. "Why don't you release him, girl?" came the slippery voice. "I doubt even the incredible Mr Potter could do anything without his wand."

A muttered counter-spell allowed Harry to glare up, upon the serpentine 'Lord' and his pawn (or was _he_ apawn of _hers_?). It was the same throne-room he had seen in his dream, and he was just three metres away from Voldemort. Leone stood to his side, a little closer to Harry. In one hand she held her own wand, and in the other she cradled the Myrrh Cage. Voldemort was twirling Harry's own wand in his fingers.

Harry felt a chill of rage as he saw his beautiful wand being handled by the ice-white murderer, and took a moment to compose himself before he rose proudly and unwaveringly to his feet. His tiredness nearly made him stumble as soon as he had done so, but he gave barely a quiver before getting himself under control.

Harry's eyes lit up as he saw Voldemort. "Hey, it's Pure Evil!" he cried jubilantly, waving a hand. "Hi, Pure Evil!"

The snake-eyes narrowed, as the Dark Lord glowered. "Potter," he hissed, "do not try to underestimate the danger of your situation."

"Who cares how he acts," Leone snapped out triumphantly, a crazy smile on her face. She stared at Harry with wickedly gleaming eyes. "He's here. It worked."

Harry opened his mouth to bite out a retort, but Voldemort spoke before him. "You are correct. The plan worked; Potter has arrived; and now the time has come for us to finish the deal. You shall have Potter to... _play with_... as you wish, before his death - and I will have the Myrrh Cage, and the instructions on commanding the daemon." Transferring Harry's wand to one hand, he rose and stretched out the other hand to the girl.

Leone however, simply gave a Cheshire-cat grin. Harry gave a small jump as the daemon slunk out from where it had been silently standing behind him, and over to its mistress. The torchlight reflected off its eyes, which were the solid black of a bird's, and off the ink-black scales that encrusted its body.

"You seem to have misunderstood me," Leone purred, stalking towards Harry though her eyes were fixed on Voldemort's face. He seemed to have realised something was going on. "You see, it's quite impossible for someone who's Summoned a daemon to transfer control of it to someone else. My little daemon obeys only me, and _always will_. You, I'm afraid, will get nothing, while I keep my own prize."

She smirked at Harry, who looked defiantly back. "And of course," she whispered, though it echoed around the empty chamber, "I'll get my revenge. And my daemon's revenge." She grinned again. "No, to tell the truth, Voldemort, you _will _get something - the chance to explore the mysteries of the afterlife.

"Daemon, kill him."

Harry leapt aside, but he'd had no need to; the black beast lunged not for him, but for the Dark Lord, who stared, mouth agape, as if in disbelief. For the first time, Harry felt like cheering the unholy monster on - and then like rooting for Voldemort. Either winner would have eliminated one of his enemies, though he wasn't sure who he wanted to win.

Voldemort still had his wand, he suddenly realised to his horror, but as he started forwards, an iron grip around his arm gave him pause. Glancing around, he realised it was Leone.

"Get off!" he snapped, but she only leered victoriously in reply before yanking something out of her pocket. A rock, Harry realised, and he instinctively knew it was another Portkey. "Don't -" he began, fearing the dizziness to come again so quickly, but she had already rammed it into his hand. She was touching it too - and as the jerk started again for the second time in just minutes, Harry swore that if he survived, he would learn how to Apparate.

This time, it was faster: it took just a second to rip him from where he was standing and tumble to his destination. Leone was obviously better at recovering from Portkeys than he, though, for as he forced himself away from her and the rock, she was already fine. Raising her wand, she hissed, "Don't move. I'd hate to kill you right now, but I'm fully prepared to do so."

Harry froze. Taking in his location, he realised he was back in the clearing of the Forbidden Forest where she had held him last time. "Full circle?" he asked coolly, and she gave a half-shrug in reply.

"It's a nice view," she said sarcastically. "But there's something a little different about this time."

Harry regarded her coldly, wondering whether he could cast a wandless spell or take an Annumagus form before she could bite out a spell. "You don't have a daemon to back you up? I'm not tied down?" he shot, "Or maybe you've grown a few brain-cells?"

Leone threw back her head and laughed delightedly. "That's so like you, Potter!" she crowed, "You're looking straight at death, and you still think you're in charge! No, I'm afraid the main difference _is_ the aim of what I'm going to do to you. You see, Potter, the purpose of last time was to bring my sister back to life; but now she's undergone cremation. Quite impossible to bring her back.

"This time, your death is still going to be a key ingredient - but it will be for a much larger goal. Don't feel alone, though; you won't be the only one to die." she added.

Harry's only choices were to keep her talking, or to cast a spell - but he knew she was fast, and the best option was to distract her. "So, what? Another sacrifice? Your plans are hardly original," he sneered, hoping to rile her up.

She didn't seem very bothered, however. "Whatever's necessary," she smiled politely, and with a flick of her wand, chains twisted out from the huge rock that he had been tied to last time, and wrapped around him before he could react, pulling him into him. His skull made a nasty cracking sound as his head snapped against it, and he let loose a scream of pain - his vision blurred for a second, and agony rose at the point of contact.

His back hurt as well, and the gleaming rust-coloured chains gnawed into his arms, legs and torso. Another one snaked out and tugged his neck, until he could no longer move his head up or down. His hands were trapped, immobile; he could barely wriggle any part of his body, but for twisting his head painfully to the side.

"Hey, deja vu," he grumbled cynically. Leone ignored him, retrieving a heavy bag from behind a tree.

"What are you planning?" he demanded, eyeing the clunky bag. Leone gave him a gleeful look as she began taking the equipment out of the bag.

"I suppose you have a right to know," she purred, obviously happy with the chance to mess with his mind. "Firstly, the ritual is going to extract all your magic and put it into my daemon. Then I'm going to slit your throat, because I _really_ don't like you."

Harry's eyes widened. "And what the _Hell_ do you think you're going to accomplish?!" he shrieked, struggling at the chains.

"Revenge, as I've said many a time," Leone scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, don't you ever listen?"

"So why make a deal with Voldemort?" Harry snapped out, playing for time. Now she paid less attention to him, as she continued setting up candles and strange-looking items in a well-practiced manner.

"Quite simple, really. Your friend can sense empathic signatures -" Harry frowned for a second, but then realised that he had told Leone about Levina's ability, "- so I didn't want the daemon to attempt taking the wards down. But Voldemort has plenty of spies on these sides of the wards, so it was only too easy for them to make a Portkey here for me, and to plant the Myrrh Cage in your room."

She snorted in annoyance. "Unfortunately, Voldemort was hardly willing to help out of the goodness of his heart. I promised him that I'd give him the Myrrh Cage and pass on command of the daemon to him, in exchange for you - he was really only too happy to oblige; he knew what could be achieved with Syneeta and a Myrrh Cage with five more daemons."

Harry frowned, tugging futilely at his bonds. "_Syneeta_?"

"The name of the daemon," Leone sighed, rolling her eyes. "She's got quite an interesting story behind her."

Harry suddenly remembered where he had heard the name before. Syneeta - she was meant to be Y'Laagrondd's daughter; he had read it on the laptop when he had first got it! Hermione knew the story as well, he had heard her telling someone about it... Syneeta - she had killed someone, and been sentenced to become a daemon...

But that couldn't be true! It was mythology, it wasn't real. But if not, then why did he feel the now-familiar burning of the necklace? The burning that signified the carving of another rune?

Harry gritted his teeth. That wasn't important right now. What _was_ important was stopping Leone.

But he had taken too long. The girl turned just as Harry closed his eyes, beginning to mouth the words that would knock her out, and saw what he was doing.

"Not this time," she snarled, lifting her wand. "_STUPEFY_!"

--------------------------

Once more, Harry found himself Stupefied - but this time he knew immediately what to do. He mentally cast around for the link for just a second, before finding it and latching on to it. He felt a brief sensation of surprise from down the connection - he guessed that Ajax sensed him grabbing hold - and let it carry him along.

He found himself inhabiting the body of his Familiar within moments, but this time Ajax wasn't willing to shut up. '_What's happening?_' he squawked in annoyance. '_I was trying to sleep!_'

'_Well, you can do it when I'm not being murdered,_' Harry riposted, annoyed at sharing a body with the bird. '_Look, can you come back later? I'm a bit busy at the moment._'

'_There's politeness for you,_' muttered Ajax as Harry felt his personality fade away. '_Getting kicked out of your own body. Most people go through their whole lives without having it happen to them even once. I don't know ho..._" Harry didn't hear anymore, as Ajax had now disappeared completely.

Feeling in control of the body, Harry tested his wings and gave his destination a few brief thoughts. Levina or Dumbledore? Well, Levina would actually be able to talk to him - and she could get down there faster. But where would she be? Cursing his lack of knowledge of the staff's quarters, Harry let loose a telepathic cry for help, directed only at the android.

She replied instantly; not words, but a general sense of where she was. Harry spread his wings again and took flight, rocketing out of the window and down by the main entrance, where Levina was now appearing, surrounded by her purple glow. She had obviously realised this was an emergency, for she held her sword as though she had just grabbed it.

Harry spoke as Ajax did, aloud rather than telepathically, but Levina understood. "Leone. In the Forest, where she held me last time. There's no daemon, but she's got the Myrrh Cage."

Levina nodded grimly, looking in the direction of the trees. The Sun was just beginning to rise over them. "What's she doing?"

"I don't know," Harry said, ruffling his feathers in a mix of nervousness and tiredness. "She's going to kill me though, in some kind of ritual. I don't know what she hopes to do - something about revenge, for her and the daemon." A thought struck him. "She said the daemon was called Syneeta," he added.

Levina froze for a moment, before pulling herself together. "But it isn't there?"

Harry shook his head before he could stop himself. "She told it to kill Voldemort, but it'll probably come back to her once it's done."

"Right," Levina sighed. "I'll stop her for now, but you know I'm not meant to be involved - get Dumbledore, and I'll disappear when the Aurors arrive." She pushed the main door open.

Harry took off as the violet aura enveloped her again, and slipped through the door inside the castle. All he had to do now was cause a lot of noise and wake someone up - and desperately hope Levina would make it in time.

--------------------------

The android appeared just outside the Forest - if she went directly to the clearing, she would be easy to pick off while she was still materialising. Instead, she ran the rest of the way, planning her tactics.

As she reached the edge of the glade, though, she stopped to rethink the strategy.

The daemon Syneeta was here now, gasping rasping breaths, coated with slick blood. There were several long, gaping wounds which seeped a sticky red, carved along its stomach and arms, and its eyes showed fear. It looked as though it would hardly be a match for her.

But more importantly, there was Voldemort.

He too was injured, with several jagged slashes weeping up and down his face, and his heavy black robes were torn along his chest, caked with half-dried blood. He was not too injured to be defenceless, however. He was beyond any anger that was possible for a normal human - his eyes were mad with wrath, and he held his wand directly at Leone. His normally icy hands were now bone-white with the force he exerted upon them as he gripped the long, thin stick.

"You are as much a coward as your daemon," he was hissing through clenched teeth. "Just as that disgusting beast flees to its mistress as soon as it appears I will win, _you_ are nothing more than a back-stabbing traitor. I honour my agreements - except when I am betrayed in such a way. And for that, I am going to kill you.

"_Avad_-"

Leone leapt aside, screaming, "_Attack him_!", and the daemon, bound to obey, did so. It smashed into Voldemort, knocking the Dark Lord's wand from his grasp, and snapping, screaming, gouging, at his neck.

Levina knew that this was more than enough to distract those two - now there was only Leone to deal with, and Harry, who was stunned and silent, bound up against the same flat rock he had been before. Leone was running over to him, her hand digging in her pocket -

Levina's eyes flashed with panic, bidding a spell to come to mind. There was no time for messing around - the Killing Curse would have to do. She readied the words and flung them towards the girl, the green light wailing silently out of the leaves she lurked behind and shooting at Leone.

But as the emerald curse reached her, Leone reached the cold grey rock. The curse decelerated as it approached the great stone, slowed down to near a halt as it tried to struggle onwards - the air around it seemed to ripple, shimmer -

Finally, Levina understood what Leone was doing. Transferring the magic that Harry had within him to the daemon; making it stronger, strong enough to create some kind of spell, to do _something_; and the powerful ritual had a whole aura of Harry's magic around it, exiting him on its way to Syneeta, invisible, so thick that outside magic couldn't pass through -

And Leone was close enough to be protected by it.

Levina drew her sword, prepared to run as fast as she could, to cover those dozen metres between them, but it was too late. She had stood there too long.

Leone finally completed that last step in front of Harry. She drew the dagger from her pocket - the same dagger she had wanted to use in this place an eternity ago - and the chains moved aside enough for her to slash it across Harry's throat in one easy swipe.

A slice that shredded flesh. A gush of red fluid that covered Leone in what was surely too brilliant, too red, too unreal to be blood.

And with that, Harry Potter was dead.

o0o

* * *

(Please note that any questions, answers, comments, etc are on my Livejournal, a link to which is on my bio page!) 


	22. Chapter 22: Songscore

Chapter 22: Songscore 

"The doom of a nation can be averted only by a storm of flowing passion, but only those who are passionate themselves can arouse passion in others." - Adolph Hitler 

--------------------------

Ajax's body gave a violent shudder, and Harry's mind seemed to flicker for a second before returning, like a blinking light-bulb. Trying to work out what had happened, Harry calmed himself, just before he felt _it_. The bond - the link between his own body and this one - was still there, intact; but instead of the direct path to his body, the aura of welcome at the other end, he felt a sensation of dread further down.

As soon as he sensed it, he knew - just as he knew that fire was hot and snow was cold - that if he went down that path, back to his body, he would be dead. Gone. The tiny piece of soul that anchored him to his body had been hacked away, and the instead he forced the rest of his soul back into its original shell, the rest of it would be swept away.

He was dead.

But he was still here.

He'd alerted Dumbledore to the Forest again - he was only thankful the headmaster had realised it was the same place as last time (and the alarm for broken wards over in the Forest was certainly a great help as well). As far as he could tell, Dumbledore had alerted the teachers and Aurors, and were making their way towards the Forest.

He himself had been resting in the headmaster's office for a few moments: the attack had not come at a good time - the exam, party, kidnap and subsequent escape made him feel like he would drop dead at any moment... but if he was dead anyway, who cared? He spread his wings and took to flight again, locking the horrific realisation of his own demise away to be dealt with later.

The only thing running through his sleep-clouded mind now was to stop Leone and the daemon; the impulse to do so was so strong, he could almost feel it permeating his aching, agonising muscles.

--------------------------

"_Do it now!_" Leone screamed, "_Ignore him! Do it now, I'm commanding you!_"

The daemon gave a screech and backed off the still breathing Voldemort, who forced himself off the ground in obvious anguish. The daemon gave another, longer, screech of mad joy as the air around it seemed to ripple for a second. Levina closed her eyes in brief despair. The ripple - it was Harry's magic, being absorbed into the daemon.

Leone had completed what she had hoped to do. She hadn't been able to stop her; nor even Voldemort. Harry was dead - the Phoenix was dead. It was obvious now what the 'Remembrance' meant.

Just as the King and Queen were sacrificed on an alter long ago, to complete a ritual and bring about the rise of those who hoped to conquer all... now Harry was sacrificed on an alter, to complete a ritual and bring about the rise of one who hoped to destroy all. But where was the Eclipse?

Levina frowned. This Eclipse of Remembrance; it was meant to be between Harry and Voldemort, the King of Serpents; not Harry and Leone. The prophecy had to be completed, she told herself, hope renewed. She had plenty of experience in these matters; how could she not, having lived so long with one of the greatest seers in history?

Harry would find a way to fight Voldemort, she knew it. He may lose then - but for now, he would be back.

She hoped.

There was a sudden rustle of leaves as they were beaten forwards; Ajax hurtled through the trees, exhaustion evident with the tensing of each wing. Levina felt her non-existent heart lighten considerably - if Harry's Familiar hadn't been destroyed then somehow, somewhere, Harry existed as well.

"Where's Potter?" she hissed, withdrawing back into the trees and coating herself with charms to make herself unnoticeable. She kept her eyes on the daemon, screaming in power-lust, with the occasional glance at Voldemort, who was trying to unobtrusively look for his wand and stem his bleeding.

Ajax fixed his eyes on the back of her head. '_I _am_ Harry_,' he croaked as quietly as possible. '_I managed to get in this body before she killed me. What's happening?_'

Levina nodded grimly in understanding. "The daemon's still absorbing the last of your magic; it should be finished in a minute or so. Leone won't be much trouble, she's only Human - but Voldemort's here. Hurt, without his wand, no back-up, but still here." There was a _crack_ of Apparition and she groaned. "Well, that's Voldie gone to get his followers. Anyway, she slit your throat."

'_What's the daemon going to do?_' Harry asked worriedly. '_And why haven't _you_ done anything?_'

"I'm a bit busy trying to figure out what I'm _meant_ to do!" Levina hissed. "Leone's put bloody wards of her own making up around the Forest, so it's going to be a while before Dumbledore's reinforcements can even get in. We can only pass them because we're not technically alive, in these electrical bodies.

"But to answer your first question, I have no idea what the daemon's trying to do. However," she grimaced, "when there's a daemon with excess power and the word 'revenge' involved, it's nothing good."

"So we need to stop them." Harry surmised immediately. "Right then - kill Leone, kill the daemon, and be prepared for when Voldemort gets back."

"Too late," Levina snapped, and Harry glanced over to where she was staring. The undulating magical current around the daemon was now barely visible against its body; and with one final stretch of Syneeta's coarse body, it vanished completely - at the same moment that Leone stopped watching it as well, and spotted Ajax's body.

Harry was hardly an unsuspicious sight; an obviously magical bird sitting in plain view, especially when all the other wildlife had fled from the location of the screaming daemon long ago.

Wishing this body could use magic, Harry's only choice was to duck and dodge with his already drained body as Leone whipped her wand up and screamed the Killing Curse. The daemon watched interestedly, before grinning wickedly and languorously extending razor-sharp claws.

'_Do something!_' Harry snapped to the Unnoticeable android, who rolled her eyes and broke the spells that made herself inconspicuous.

"I would have thought birds were beneath your notice," she jibed, making her sword painfully obvious. Leone's face twisted in shock for a moment, and then even more quickly into fury.

"How did you get in?" she snapped, before "Syneeta, stay_ back!_"

Levina smirked. "Seems like you have trouble controlling your pets -"

"Or just that I simply don't want to waste a drop of her energy," Leone purred devilishly. "I have big plans, Professor Carnaena; and if you're one of Voldemort's little cronies, don't bother. I'm in no mood for sorting out frivolous matters."

"Actually, I'm an acquaintance of Harry's," Levina said coldly, "and I'd _really_ like to know why you think it's so important to kill him and give his power to your vermin, especially when you could easily take it yourself."

Leone didn't make the fool's mistake of looking over to Harry's body and leaving an opening for attack. Instead, she smiled sweetly. "Perhaps you can tell me how you through my wards, and I'll answer _your _question."

Harry, resting on a branch (and panicking considerably) noticed something just outside the Forest. '_Keep her talking!_' he instructed urgently, '_They've nearly broken through her wards!_'

Levina made no sign that she had heard, except for what she said next. Harry could feel every second ticking painfully away, careful not to look over at his too-still body, whose front was coated and smeared with the rust-red, runny liquid. "Deal; but you'll have to forgive me if I don't trust you. You answer first."

"Certainly," Leone leered gloriously. "All that magical energy, to be used as daemonic magic - which I could hardly use myself - is going to be used for one very special goal. Your turn."

"Your wards only keep out living creatures," Levina snapped, "not me."

As the wards gave one final shudder and splintered, shattered, split like a mirror and dissipated, Levina leapt at the girl.

Both hands on the massive broadsword, every poison filled barb on the blade was outstretched, ready to nick and infect should it touch the target's flesh. Levina gave a warrior's scream of insanity and lunacy, in a show of bravado that terrified those were unused to combat. It did its job, for Leone hesitated -

Levina twisted her sword up in the air, leaving herself open, but knowing Leone had no idea of how to take advantage of it -

Harry gave a cry of thankfulness as the Wizards stormed through the Forest to where they were -

Leone swung her wand round, and shrieked with all her strength, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_'

For a moment, Harry floundered in incomprehension; what was she doing? How could that stop Levina? But then, as Levina had already done, he realised where the spell was aimed. The target was the Myrrh Cage, which was hurtling through the air to crash, like the wards, over Levina's sword.

It flew high and true, and both he and Levina immediately understood why she had done it; there was a chance to catch it, to be able to put the daemon back inside it, easily and simply, to keep the rare and ancient object safe - but to do so would mean giving Leone time to attack or run.

Harry was still wondering what to do, wishing he had Levina's experience but knowing he was no use in this body anyway, but the woman had already made her choice; she turned and ran flat out, snatching the huge pearl like an oversized Snitch.

As she did so, Leone turned as well; it seemed for a moment that she was about to run, but it became clear she was just using every moment she could. She yelled at the daemon, which had obeyed her order to stay back until now, "You know the plan! _Go_! Get our revenge!"

The daemon screeched it's assent and - was gone.

--------------------------

'_It's gone!_' Harry wailed, losing the last shred of nerve he had.

"Pull yourself together and _follow_ him!" Levina snapped, face flushed. She was in command now; Levina had disappeared and become Professor Carnaena, his tutor, the one who sneered at his attempts in training, the one who refused to answer his questions. "Get back to your body, now! Before Syneeta can do anything!"

'_But I'll die! And I don't know where -_' Harry choked out, but Levina didn't care for excuses.

"Then make a new body! One that can come back from the dead! You're a phoenix Annumagus aren't you?" she roared, thrusting protective charms over the Myrrh Cage, "Once you do that, you'll _know_ where it went!"

Harry didn't understand what she meant; he knew he'd die if he returned to his body; he'd never even turned _into_ his phoenix form before; he could hardly be expected to defeat the daemon by himself - but a thread of hope appeared and he clung to it. If she was right - if she hadn't snapped - then he could be some use, finally.

As Levina fixed her attention once more on Leone, and hefted her sword into her hands, Harry also fixed his attention on something: the link which he knew lead to death. As Levina sped forwards, and the Wizards finally charged into the clearing, Harry threw himself down the dark bond that he and Ajax shared, willing himself to resurrect, to heal; to change.

As he fell - not travelled this time, but descended - he felt a sudden lightening of the link. The metaphysical shadows of his soul drifted, agonisingly slowly, but they did so all the same; '_Phoenix_' Harry told himself fervently, '_You are a Phoenix. You think like a Phoenix, have the body of a Phoenix. You cannot die, you were never dead. I am the Phoenix._'

As his confident thoughts were hammered into his head, the shadows receded faster, like the curtains thrown open on a sunny morning. Whereas traversing still took but seconds, Harry's mind was stretching it out into what seemed an eternity. He screamed his words ahead into his own body, "_Phoenix! I am the Phoenix!_", and even in his momentarily-bodiless state he could still feel the words - like a powerful force - reaching his body and changing it, shifting it.

And now, finally, there were no shadows running throughout his mind and the bond that tethered him - no longer weakly - to his destination. Instead he could see the bond; no longer a metaphor of light, stretching away in his head, but _there_ - physical, real. A pure white thread, slim as spider-silk but stronger than any magic Harry had ever known. And around it, entwining it, were speckles and freckles of gleaming, singing golds and proud, beautiful reds -

And finally, just as in the crystal ball he had gazed into a lifetime ago, there was a mist, fine and smooth, billowing in gentle curls around the thread, like an aura of incense-smoke instead of light. But no longer was it the dreary, ominous shade of the crystal smoke - this was an azure, a captivating, entrancing tint, that Harry longed to reach out to with his silken feathers; a cool and breezy blue that let the sparkles of glimmering reds and golds flow through, weaving and twirling in and out, out and in, like the dancing fairies Harry had seen wing their way through the air.

Another eternity passed, but Harry didn't notice, didn't care; this was perfection, this was absolute contentment - he was no longer falling, tumbling aimlessly down the link, as he had been before... this was like a blind man seeing for the first time. Every direction was warm yet cool, safe yet exciting, and Harry drifted at speeds unimaginable, never quite going anywhere, though he felt the unmistakeable sensation of swift movement.

With a sudden snap of renewed memory, Harry came back down to reality with a thud. He needed to get to his body - the view would still be there to admire later, should he survive. The moment his former determination reappeared, the sparkling vapour increased tenfold, swirling and whirling about him until it obscured his vision, and all the world was an incandescent blue; an instant later, Harry's mind no longer clutched to the slender path he followed, but instead was sent reeling into another place.

His body.

--------------------------

Harry gave a cry of delight and extended vast wings; from glowing gold to lustrous orange to radiant ruby at the feather-tips. A crown of golden-yellow plumes bejewelled his crest, and streaks of crimson and claret adorned the chest, where each feather shone like a dazzling ray of Sunlight.

He was the Phoenix - he had conquered death and risen from the ashes. He was born again from the sliver of soul that remained, and bathed in the firelight that shone from his own feathers.

He was Harry; he was a phoenix. He was _the _Phoenix. But more importantly, he was alive: and he knew what to do.

For this was a different kind of '_bird's-eye_' view; as the bindings which had held his body slipped uselessly away, he could see the whole scene around him, awash with the blue mist, and speckled with lines of the same glowing colour that ran like veins through the very air; it thrummed with power, entangling Harry and moving as he did, curling in lesser spirals around the humans who stood about, their faces unimportant and unnoticeable - the tendrils of crackling energy snaked and knitted through the bodies, inside them, like sending out shoots, and as they moved about, so the stems did - as though, Harry thought dimly, they were plug sockets, with wires streaming out of them.

Except that the vines that strung about from the Humans, and him, and the rock he throwing himself away from; and the trees and the very grass and air and -

And _everything_ -

These vines didn't leech energy away; they were a complicated web, each merging into the other until truly he realised they all the same one, split off at different points; and the energy that swam through these conduits was streaming _down_ them, _into_ the people and plants, and pulsing vividly around their wands and hearts and spiralling around and inside their bodies...

And that wasn't energy, as he had thought a moment ago; he knew it just as he had known he was dead, as he had known that he had transformed; the phoenix body told him, and he understood this was pure, raw, unrefined magic -

And he knew.

Suddenly the thoughts that had spun through his head, repeating, thundering, awing him into a dazed sense of wonder - vanished as he realised what he had to do. There, where the daemon had stood, where it had disappeared; the phoenix vision saw it clearly.

Here, the channels of magic were bleached with a poisonous obsidian, and the crow-shaded ribbons were like jagged thorns; instead of the smooth curves and dreamy, speedy dashes of enthralling intensity, the murky slop of black pulsed heavily, dragging itself into that focal point, in a powerful display of revolting energy.

The phoenix mind tagged it quicker than Harry could have even guessed. Daemonic magic; he knew what he had to do. He knew.

It suddenly hit him that all this, from his transfer to transformation, freedom to realisation, had only taken perhaps five seconds; he scythed through the air with ease, for all his body was renewed and rejuvenated, and there was wonder in everything: he wanted to look everywhere, be everywhere, at once, and it was all he could do to remind himself to keep to the mission, to_ stop the daemon_...

He swung around and his long tail fanned out like rippling waves of fire behind him; and he dived into the black muck that filled him with so much dread, sloughing off his fear like a serpent skin, and with a _flick_ of his mind, suddenly the azure mist that had been in the background of the real world was now the foreground, surrounding him; and the people around him became faded silhouettes - and though the roots that dived around the world almost vanished in visibility, more of the incorporeal wires appeared, though none obscured his view.

The mist... the mist was the source. It was the mist that ran through the wires, from this other reality that overlapped with their own world; this mist was magic, and this reality was its origin, the source. This was where Wizards and Witches drew their power from; these rivers of magic-carrying that wrapped snugly around and inside people, magical objects and places - the glistening streams that imparted their cargo when called upon; for a spell, or ward or to swim through the blood of a magical creature.

None of this was important now, though, and Harry shook his glossy head in a Human gesture, an attempt to clear it, to remind himself where he was, the urgency of the situation.

This was where the daemon had gone, this other realm; straight to the heart of magic, fuelled by its own daemonic magic, and the power stolen from Harry. But Harry himself was no longer drained; the veins were furiously pumping magic into his very core, more than he had ever felt as a human - he could feel every fiery speck of it within him, felt as though he himself were formed of it.

And there was the daemon, obvious to anyone. In this world of blue, it stuck out as a dark, figure of daemonic power, occasionally spitting out sparks of shadowy embers.

It sensed him, he knew it - Syneeta looked up, and Harry felt a coil of revulsion tighten within him. This was a daemon as it really appeared; and it was a thousand times more brutally terrifying than in the world he had just come from. He felt no fear though; the phoenix would not allow him to do so. It was physically, mentally, impossible.

Harry spread his wings further, floating on non-existent winds; and calling the magic into and around it, it obeyed his every will. But it obeyed the daemon as well, who manipulated it subtly and efficiently as Harry assessed the situation with the clear mind of the phoenix. It was using the magic, tainting it as it did so; weaving it to create some kind of effect. Part daemonic, part his own stolen magic - Syneeta was doing something. Something big.

But 'weaving' was not just a way of describing it; that was what she _was_ doing. Weaving and braiding it into a closely interlaced net, black with darkness, that wouldn't even let the brilliant blue behind it shine through. It was huge already as the daemon whipped around it, with elegant movements and swift actions.

Whatever the spell it was creating, it was growing by the second. And Harry knew that whatever it was, it couldn't, _mustn't_ be released into the world.

--------------------------

Levina had melted into the trees again before anyone could identify her, leaving the Wizards and Witches searching for the elusive figure. Leone - cackling like a madman - had been taken away by Unspeakables on Dumbledore's orders: she would be interrogated for any information pertaining to Voldemort, and - if any - the Dark.

Levina herself was invisible, unnoticeable and silent, thanks to ancient spells and enchantments far more powerful than any revealing spells the remaining teachers and Aurors could cast. Ajax crouched low on her shoulder, once more in his rightful body (and complaining about being forced out in the first place). The teachers and Dumbledore were mostly panicked about Harry.

Those first into the clearing had sworn he was tied up on the rock, dead, coated in half-dried blood. They and the next few that had arrived swore even more definitely that his body had suddenly become a glowing, glorious phoenix - that the magical chains that bound his body had simply snapped, were thrown away -

And that was where the stories began to differ.

The few who had entered last had not seen a thing, so they were no help. But what those who saw (or at least _thought _they saw) said was that either; a) the phoenix had thrown itself across half the clearing and disappeared in a flash of blue light, or that b) the phoenix had erupted into tiny sapphire flames, covered with spiralling streaks of glowing trails, whereupon it seemed to expand _and_ shrink at the same time. They hadn't quite been able to explain to the others.

Dumbledore, the Unspeakables, and the teachers who knew about the 'Phoenix' prophecy - and knew that a phoenix was one of Harry's Annumagus forms - had a sneaky suspicion they knew part of what had happened. Harry had been injured; he had changed into a phoenix to escape; and then what?

No-one knew what Leone had done, where her daemon was, where Harry was, and they were more than a little desperate about it.

Levina and Ajax did know, however... most of it, anyway. "I can sense him," Ajax boasted matter-of-factly. "There's going to be a battle for the fate of humanity going on not ten feet away from us in just a few seconds, and all these poor saps don't have a clue."

Levina snorted. "You know damn well I can't Switch. _You_ can though, can't you? Why don't you go over and help him?"

"As _you_ know," Ajax said calmly, turning her words back on her, "I can't use magic myself. All I can do is store magic - and Harry hardly needs any of that, since he's at the very source of the damned stuff - and act as a power booster when I'm near him. Well, I _am_ near him. On a different wavelength of reality, but still physically close. All I'd do was irritate, distract him and get in the way."

There was a sigh. "So the fight's down to him. Wonderful. And we still have no idea what the daemon's doing, I suppose?"

"None whatsoever." cawed Ajax cheerfully, hopping onto his other foot. "Never mind. If Harry survives and the daemon does too, we'll pop it in the Myrrh Cage. You've got it, haven't you?"

"Right here," Levina said, using her sword to tap the orb that lay by her foot. "But please don't forget, Harry thinks daemons are impossible to kill. He might only try to play for time, or something."

Ajax scoffed. "He's in a completely different _Realm_ right now, for crying out loud. I'm sure he can figure out that the rules aren't the same over there."

Levina pursed her lips. "Probably." She dodged aside to allow an oblivious Auror to search through the bush she was standing in front of. "Do you think we should ask Dumbledore's phoenix for help? I mean, all phoenixes can Switch naturally, can't they - it's how they usually travel - so maybe it could help him?"

"You're acting like an unsure teenager," came the reply. "Come off it; if Potter _can_ win, he will. What I'm worried about is the prophecy; the one by Elspeth Glades. It mentions armies. The problem is, I don't think Harry versus a single daemon really counts as an army."

Levina frowned as this thought clicked in her head. "You don't think this is the Eclipse then?"

Ajax pecked his wing feathers thoughtfully. "No, I don't. I mean, this is meant to be against his 'most feared adversary', the 'king of serpents'. I still think it's Voldemort, and I'm mostly worried about where he's gone. He knows that Harry's here, and he thinks Leone and the daemon are - obviously, he's going to come back with his followers. That's one army..."

"And you think these Wizards are going to be the opposing side." Levina stated.

"Exactly," the bird croaked, pleased at her deduction. "However, it says that the Phoenix is the one to face the serpent king, which means Potter is going to battle ol' Voldie; so unless Snake-Face is actually the daemon, which I very much doubt, Harry's going to _have_ to survive to come back and battle Voldemort."

"But just surviving to return, doesn't mean he'll actually defeat the daemon, nor stop its task," Levina warned.

Ajax bobbed his head in agreement. "No, it doesn't. It'll take a while for Voldemort to gather his forces at such short notice, but not _too_ long. If I were you, I'd get the Cage safely out of the way and prepare to fight."

Levina nodded. "Sound advice, even if it _is_ from a bird. Fine, you stay here and keep me updated with Telepathy. Send me a few mental pictures of how the situation develops, if it does... stay out of the way. I'm going to put this in my quarters - and get seen by a few students, so I have an alibi if anyone gets suspicious."

Ajax shifted his location to a tree branch overhead, while she slipped off to the castle, not daring to use Seportion in case it destroyed the spells that made her unseen and inconspicuous.

Meanwhile, Ajax kept one eye on the Realm he was in now, watching as the Wizards searched and searched for the woman they had seen rushing towards Leone with a sword, or the Boy-Who-Lived, with no results; and one eye Switched into the mana Realm - keeping track of Harry and the daemon's ill-omened spell.

--------------------------

As Harry flew, not needing to beat his wings in this eerily comforting pace, yet doing so out of instinct, he didn't even make a ripple in the fog, nor in the overlapping, criss-crossing threads that ferried the mist out from this place into the physical world. The threads that were connected to him were the only ones that moved, remained in him as if attached, and he discovered that with a single thought, he could influence them as he wished.

He make them wider, thicker so that more magic pulsed into his body, filling him until his head span with power - but he was a glass that could only hold so much, and soon the hollow wires' cargo was unmoving. The daemon had ceased its binding now, and was warily crouching into a position to defend itself, unsure of this threat.

Harry cried out in a melodious announcement of his presence, his great wings - each eight feet long to their very tip- unfurled massively. The daemon regarded this manifestation as a serious threat now, seeing the power he held, and hissed lowly. With a whirl of movement, before Harry could react, it had stretched out its claws and snagged the strings of blue as though they were physical, tangible. Harry knew that it only appeared that way - that the daemon was in fact only moving them with its mind - but he still had to dodge aside when it became a river of venomous black, slashing out like a whip and narrowly slicing past Harry's left wing.

Thankful it hadn't touched him, but still strangely fearless, Harry tilted at a slight angle to dodge a second and third lashing, before hovering uncertainly at a distance of a dozen metres away from the daemon.

Syneeta saw him give pause, and seemed to think he was stopping. Immediately, it commenced its pollution of the blue strands, continuing interlocking them into a mass of thick shadows.

Harry brought his wings to his sides and perched on non-existent air. What was he meant to do now? There was no way he could defeat the daemon, was there? Obviously it couldn't the magic itself, not without the ritual Leone had performed; none of the conduits wrapped around or connected to its body, and the only source of Human magic it had was Harry's.

'_Perhaps_,' Harry thought as inspiration struck, '_I could get it to use up its supply of my magic, before it finishes the spell. It won't be able to complete it with _just_ daemonic magic._' He watched it carefully; the gruesome entity was no longer regarding him as a threat - it seemed to have forgotten everything but its mistress' orders. In fact, he realised suddenly, it seemed to need the Human magic to actually manipulate the strands. It could defile them - turn them into the strange black mess - but to use it as a weapon in its own right, it had used Harry's magic. And if _it_ could do that with Human magic: then so could he.

Summoning up his courage - and a few choice spells - Harry prepared himself to move quickly, and felt with his mind for the channels around him. If it was pure magic, which he was quite sure of, then that meant it could be changed into any kind of spell; and so he drew in as much magic as he could from the threads and threw it at the daemon, willing the words _saevus incendium!_

His efforts were immediately visible, though not as effective as he had hoped; the daemon screamed an ear-splitting shriek, wrenching itself away from its work as the wildfire flashed around it. There was a strange _sensation_ of burning, charred flesh, rather than a smell; the beast writhed for a moment, spitting furious pain, before it finally came to enough to reshape the nearby magic into water, which rushed in a torrent over the flames, dousing them in seconds.

Its scales were blistered blacker than even before, and glistening red wounds wept in small, shiny patches. The rest of it was drenched, soaking, but Harry was glad to see (_sense_) that he'd managed to deplete its reserves ever so slightly; it had foolishly used Human instead of daemonic magic.

That was it. The first proper blow struck. There was no ignoring the phoenix now; Syneeta thrust a wall of pure torture at Harry, a thousand times worse than the Cruciatus curse, and Harry too slow to dodge the entirety of it. A screaming, blinding pain, like a wall of knives, stabbed down his wing, and his nerves cried as if on fire.

Retaliations began; unthinking, pure instinct, primeval and sadistic on both sides.

--------------------------

Levina had made sure she was sighted by no fewer than eight reliable witnesses, and securely stored the Cage in a warded safe in her private quarters. In the back of her mind, she was receiving Telepathically-sent images from Ajax of what was happening in the mana Realm; she suspected that nothing interesting or important was happening in the forest clearing.

She was delayed on her way back outside by several students clamouring to know why some of the teachers had rushed off - after assuring them she had no idea as to the reason, she was forced to back-track until they were gone, to make sure no-one saw her leave the castle.

She had a nasty feeling she would be needed back at the Forest, at least for the purpose of encouraging Harry; should he return. She was no Seer, despite teaching Divination, but she'd spent enough time around them to know that gut instincts (even when you technically didn't _have_ a gut!) were always to be listened to.

All this urgency, this rushing about in a critical event - an occurrence that could mean life or death for every Human being on the planet - it certainly brought back some memories, though it was hardly the time to stop and reminisce. It had been the same as on the very day she was first activated; unsure of the reasons why Humans who buzzed around her, practically ignoring her, handling precious data, snapping out orders; there had been no Eclipse then, no Dark, no daemonic threat - but the tight fear that was coiled into a tiny spot inside her was exactly the same. Uncertainty.

She winced as Ajax's continuous Telepathic updates showed Harry - a smaller but physically weaker target in his phoenix form - receive a jagged slash from the daemon's claws. Harry, obviously in pain, healed it within seconds by calling in more of the pure blue _mana_ - taken from the Hawaiian name for magic, though it wasn't; it was the very _essence_ of magic, the raw, unrefined state before it was processed - called '_carnai_' in Atlantean.

This could turn out to be a stalemate, Levina mused. On the one hand, Harry was surrounded by unlimited reserves of mana which he could almost as he wished by converting it into the type of magic of his choosing; for healing, transfiguration, defence, offence, and the daemon was stuck only with its own magic, and the dwindling supply of the magic stolen from Harry. It couldn't heal itself, nor absorb any of the mana around it.

On the other hand, the daemon was bound by its orders, and by its own insatiable taste for vengeance. Harry; though driven by a feral desire to stop it - was obviously being slowly but surely worn down. Even if he converted the mana into a rejuvenating or energising spell for himself, it could only do so much.

Mental power was as much a factor in the conversion of mana to magic as the amount of mana one could absorb - and the pure quantity of mana he was soaking in, in such a small length of time, so carelessly, was making him less sharp, more easy to miss or make repetitive, easily predictable attacks.

Quite simply, Harry didn't have the mental or magical stamina to keep dragging the mana in, reshaping it into magic and then throwing it back out. It could be built up if he had the time, but that was one thing he was definitely lacking. The daemon couldn't heal when it was hurt - but Harry couldn't stop himself suffering from magical exhaustion. With every passing moment it was more likely that Harry - unless he started playing a slower, more intelligent, defensive battle - would find the blue conduits of his 'shorting out'; blocking up, wearing out and letting the mana leak uselessly out instead of going into him.

Throwing enchantments around her that made her immediately ignored and forgotten by anyone who might see her, Levina once again retrieved her sword from where she had hidden it outside the main entrance door, and made her way back to the Forest. If Ajax was right - and likely he was - they would have a fight on their hands; and dead people were unlikely to give Harry any help.

--------------------------

Lord Abyssay ran strangely blue eyes over the assembled troops who stood, unaware of the leader's surveillance. Some of them were excellent, talented in magical combat. A few were also good in close-up fighting, strong enough to land a good punch should they be disarmed of their wands. Many more were average to well-trained; and several more were quite useless.

"Perfect," Abyssay gave a rare compliment. Commander Tom Fallow managed a strained grin in thanks, though it was hidden under the Illusion Charm which altered his appearance. Abyssay could see the expression though - the only person who could. His leader was miles away at the moment, giving orders through the tiny, hidden earpiece. It was magical - a technological would be all right for now, but in just a few minutes, it would be made useless; too much interference from the spells that would be flying around.

The man was observing them through a miniscule Muggle camera hidden in a tapestry at the moment. Once they moved away, there would no longer be anyone watching them; a portable camera was impossible, again because of the problem of magical interference...

There were rumours of course; theories that said it was possible for magic and technology to mix... but even if it _were_ true, rather than the kooky conjectures of rambling magi-physicists, no-one had been able to find the right setting or way to bring this about. One of the loonies down in the R&D labs (honestly, he didn't why they kept half those nutters working on such stupid ideas) kept promising a breakthrough any day. He'd been promising the same thing for more than five years now.

Tom allowed himself a rueful smile. There he was, doing what he had been for the past two days; avoiding the subject of what he was going to do, unwilling to think about it. His death... or Harry Potter's. He wasn't sure what was worse for himself. The world would not shed a tear at his passing, but if Potter died, they were all doomed. But for himself - he wasn't sure whether he'd prefer to live in a condemned world, or to be dead in a world with a hope of triumph for the light.

So, he denied the subject the honour of rising into his conscious mind. It had gnawed away at the back of his head, woken him screaming in the middle of the night these past few weeks, as every day slipped closer to this fateful time - until finally he had attempted to give himself security by simply _not thinking about it_.

He thought up jokes and wondered about his superiors' social lives - he flirted with one of the more attractive girls who served tea and should have known better than to even consider becoming involved with the infamous Commander Fallow. He had spent his little remaining free time slipping hints about the passing on of his possessions, not wanting to make a will (for that would bring reality too far home). He had carried on as if he was planning to die of old age surrounded by grand-children; and besides, it wasn't as though he hadn't had long to live. He was long past the usual age considered to be the 'prime'.

Now though, he had no choice but to consider his next move; to do or die. Maybe both.

This was it. The normally indefinable moment where the present became the future, rather than the past. Where you weren't living for that one moment, but living against it and up to it at the same time. Where you tried to choose between the lesser of two evils; one that would destroy you, and the other destroy everything you loved. He'd known that someday, this would come, but he'd waved it aside when he was young and foolish. When he thought by then, there would be another path to walk. When he thought he could do anything, and there was too much to gain and nothing to lose.

When he thought he'd live forever.

And now he was going to die. It might be today, by Potter's wand if he lost (won?). It might be next year, by the Dark, if he succeeded (failed?). Either way, he was going to die. And however it happened would be his own choice; but it was also destiny's. There was the whole programming of the universe - he could follow his own encoding and do as destiny decreed; or he could botch the test. Mess up the programming. He could stand over Potter, knowing that Potter was meant to die - and not kill him. What would that mean? Would that be what fate wanted? Or would he have destroyed it all, given the experiment false results?

He didn't know. Curiously, he found he didn't care, either. This was life. Not just his, but everyone's. Not life as in 'a matter of life and death'; life as in the everyday continuing existence of everyday, the quality of life; the dangers faced everyday by everyone, their feelings, their minds. It was just another struggle, the same as any bar-room brawl in a physical sense, or grieving in a mental sense. It was simply pre-violence, pre-death. And that somehow made it worse, knowing what would come.

Or wouldn't come.

Either way, he lost.

But he had to do it: it was his duty, his future; it was what he'd sworn to Lord Abyssay, to his recruiters, his tutors, himself, that he'd do. He'd known it was coming. And now...

Now it was here.

He would lead his troops one final time, and hopefully they would all die. Die now, today. Because, if they didn't - if these heartless, wretched murderers he called his men (and they didn't deserve that title) didn't die, then they would kill. They would kill, and then they would die themselves, later.

But first and foremost, the very rule of life came to mind. _Kill or be killed_. And it had never rung more true than for one Tom Fallow, on this crossroads of a morning.

All he had to do was finish the task that had slowly driven him insane.

In whatever role he needed.

--------------------------

Dumbledore was not a happy chap. Harry had, quite literally, disappeared. He had turned into a phoenix first, which at least meant that he was almost certainly the Phoenix - but that didn't change the fact that he was quite, quite gone. Very gone, in fact. He hadn't known anyone more gone than Harry.

Realising his train of thought was suspiciously near derailing, Dumbledore popped another lemon-drop in his mouth, and reattempted to form a satisfactory conclusion from the few clues they had. The daemon had been here (or at least, it had from what they managed to make out from Leone's gleefully insane hysterics) and was now gone.

Harry, the demented girl also insisted was dead, and indeed, the blood that coated the stone-alter, the area surrounding it, and herself were all a perfect match for Harry's. One of the Aurors - also a certified medi-Wizard - insisted that there was far too much blood lost to even _consider_ Harry was still alive.

Of course, even he admitted that he had no clue as to where the body was.

Many had seen Harry's corpse (for they swore blind it was definitely a corpse, and that they would recognise the 'Boy-Who-Lived', even with his scar hidden and body soaked in blood) change into a phoenix and then... disappear.

One claim of this would be dismissed almost instantly, but everyone was willing to believe anything at this point. Plus of course, it hadn't been one claim; of the twenty-eight people here, nearly eleven people vowed they'd seen it, and three more were unsure of what they'd seen, though their stories were similar. A couple more had seen the phoenix, though not the transformation, and had thought that Fawkes had managed to arrive faster than them.

One of the Unspeakables - the Defence professor Figg, to be precise, was ambling seemingly aimlessly around the almost-circular clearing, deep in thought. She was obviously concerned over the mysterious woman who had apparently been visible for a few seconds as the first group of Aurors came on the scene.

The woman (described as having long red hair, slightly below-average height and tanned skin - and a whopping great sword) had not been found. No-one had even managed to get a glimpse of her face, for she had swept several charms around herself and disappeared from view. Who knew where she was now? And _who_ she was? Flitwick and Sprout had been sent back to the school, in case she was a danger to the students, but that was all they could do.

Now, as the Aurors searched for magical evidence of her identity and clues to Harry's condition and location, the Unspeakables hunted for non-magical clues; DNA, footprints, fingerprints, clothes fibres; anything that could be tested back at the Resistance Headquarters.

They had even called in a pair of Finders to start work on tracking Harry; their particular skills should have been able to track him within a matter of days, but what if Harry was already dead or untraceable - or would be so within days?

Dumbledore didn't groan, because that would destroy the little morale the teams had; but he did rub his forehead when he was sure no-one was watching. He could feel a headache coming on.

Abyssay was not going to like this. This could throw the whole schedule off; if the Commander came too soon, who knew what would happen? Or if Harry _had_ disappeared completely - never to return - what then?

It had been only eleven minutes since the boy had vanished, and the Ministry was _already_ on Full Alert. If Harry couldn't be found within the day, it would go up to Critical Alert; one of the levels withheld from public knowledge. If the boy still could not be found - or if his corpse or useless body was retrieved - then by the end of the week, the Arthur Initiative would be invoked. Dumbledore gave a momentary shudder at the thought of _that_ happening.

Harry would have to be retrieved; even if the only result was still his death.

--------------------------

Harry himself was unaware that he was the subject of various worried thoughts and search-parties, and a factor in more than a couple of secret plots (though he could have worked that out for himself without much consideration). He was, instead, more concerned with staying alive for the next few minutes - and preferably longer, while he was at it.

He'd worked out that he was in serious trouble just two minutes ago, though it seemed at least several hours had passed since then; a flurry of long, thin, black needles had stormed through the air (courtesy, of course, of his dear friend Syneeta) and swiftly pierced straight through part of his right wing. One of them had even managed to skewer his side, though there wasn't much bleeding.

_Much_ bleeding.

That was the trouble.

He'd thought he'd been imagining it - that it was getting harder to pull the magic into himself, that it was taking more time, effort - he'd thought he was simply becoming more aware of what it took to do so; or that perhaps he was focusing on it more. Now though, every drop of the magic he pulled in was being reluctantly thrown out in half-useless attacks.

His supposedly constant streams of magic were running dry, and he was sucking in every last drop too slowly. The almost imperceptible glow of the threads into him had turned _completely_ imperceptible; they were gone. They were thinner, diminished, dimmer.

He couldn't heal his side, nor his wing.

He was exhausted - physically, mentally, magically.

And the daemon? It was still going strong - not _as_ strong as before, perhaps, but it had wised up to his plan to exhaust it of human magic; it now tossed only daemonic magic at him, and that was rare. It knew he wasn't much of a threat. Instead, it bobbed and weaved (literally) around the ever expanding circle of dark magic, that gazed around like a single eye pronouncing doom on all it saw.

And then, as Harry threw up a lack-lustre shield to protect against a quick fireball, draining the final trickle of his magic: it was done.

The daemon, resplendent in its unbeatable glory, finally stretched out its back, throwing its head joyously to the air, and crowed the triumph of its masterpiece.

Harry started, for he hadn't even realised the creature's magnum opus was complete - and at that moment, he knew that all he had done was in vain. He was weak and pathetic, unable to so much as send a tickling charm; while the daemon was about to unleash whatever dreaded blight it was upon the world.

Harry knew his life was worthless. With the screaming pain in his wing and side slowing him down, distracting him - and with only seconds until the daemon either decided to finish him or freeing the hex - he made the most of its distraction and shoved the threads wider with all his will, heaving the seeping dribble of magic into him as best he could.

Then he opened his beak to trill a final shriek, and spread his agonising wings, before lunging at the daemon's throat, claws outstretched to rake its defenceless jugular. 


	23. Chapter 23: Magecraft

²Chapter 23: Magecraft 

"Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." - William Shakespeare 

--------------------------

Levina wasn't happy with the way things were going. She kept half of her attention on Harry's ultimately foolish and suicidal attack, and the other half of the surrounding Forest. She was crouched on a branch, perching halfway up a malformed oak tree as she scanned the slowly dispersing group of Wizards, who stood around looking weary and worried.

The white-feathered magpie ruffled its way into a position next to her, looking far more at home than she did. "Spoiling for a fight?"

The woman glared, still holding the hilt of her sword with one hand, the other outstretched and ready to cast a spell. She started to speak - to point out that Voldemort would be certain to return, to kill off Harry and Leone, to capture the daemon and retrieve the Myrrh Cage - but it was needless.

Because there, suddenly breaking silently through the trees, were the Death Eaters.

--------------------------

Harry's trill of final, panicked desperation halted the daemon as soon as the notes broke through his phoenix beak. Syneeta started, wet black eyes widening in a look of fearful revulsion that was all too human, before she gave a hissing screech and _pushed _the black web.

Harry, surrounded by the magic, felt it ripple against him as though it were water. As he slowed and stopped his hurtling rush to the daemon, he already knew it was too late. Not even his stupid, self-sacrificing bid could stop the daemon which was now -

_Pushing_ the obsidian mass somewhere else. Harry could see it fading as though to somewhere else, the strands of daemonic magic finely woven together - and suddenly, the net was gone. He could sense it, still there, poisoning the pure mana; but it was somewhere under the 'surface', hidden elsewhere. Stretched out thin like a

Cloth.

A cloth to cover something, to hide something.

The Eclipse.

A cloth to hide away the Sun.

The Eclipse.

Started by the triumph of darkness over light, first metaphorically, now in a literal sense. A human sacrifice on an altar, and now eternal life of the Five would become eternal death - of all life on Earth. No light, no photosynthesis; no plants, no grazing; no animals - and without plants or animal life, no humanity either. Within days - perhaps hours, if the apocalyptic spell stopped heat as well as light - everyone and everything would be dead.

And for the past six seconds, the Sun - unimportant and invisible in this strange other-world - had been blotted out. It was unnoticeable here, lit entirely by the warm glow of the blue mana...

But back home, back at Hogwarts, back in England, back in the plane of existence he had thought was the only one up until a short time ago - back there, people would be looking up the sky, in shock, bewilderment, confusion, horror, terror...

And it was his fault.

Syneeta still stood, two dozen black threads wrapped around her clawed fingers, gaze now fixed on Harry; and there was something there - some flicker of apprehension. Harry could see from the way the glistening threads disappeared into nowhere that they were connected to the dark mass. The daemon was anchoring the dark spell.

If he could break the threads, stop the connection from the daemon, the cloak was likely to fall apart, to fail. But what was the point? He was physically exhausted, magically drained, mentally fatigued, and his spirit felt as crushed as a two-week old kitten under an eighteen-wheeler.

But if he had no chance to hurt or defeat the daemon - why did it seem so guarded? so uneasy? It had been that way since he threw himself forwards, since he

Cried out.

_The song of the phoenix_, Harry recalled,_ strikes fear into the hearts of the impure_; and what could be more impure than a daemon, the very personification of maliciousness and evil?

He'd had the power to defeat the daemon all along, though he'd never even thought of it. The very magic contained in his voice - so simple, so obvious, that he hadn't even realised it was there.

Harry opened his beak to sing.

--------------------------

Lord Abyssay allowed a small smile to grace features that looked as if they were carved out of ice. Another cigar was lit. "It's going well," the noted the cold, impersonal voice. "Proceed as planned."

The aide bobbed his head in acknowledgement, and left the room, pulling the magnificent oak door closed behind him with a barely perceptible click. There was silence, but for Abyssay blowing a plume of smoke into the air and the rustle of papers as they were checked. The peer paused for a moment, re-reading a particular document.

A frown, changing to a look of interest, and then an anticipatory smirk.

"Harry Potter," Abyssay purred to the empty study, "When _are _we going to drop _this_ neatly-packaged little bombshell on you?" The smirk grew wider. "If you survive, of course."

--------------------------

Harry sang.

It wasn't anything special, no more than any other phoenix song was. It was beautiful, unquestionably - not heart-stoppingly so, not enough to reduce a grown man to tears; but certainly enough to make Syneeta scream in agonised terror at this assault, throwing the six-fingered hands up to her long ears. Harry could guess why - a tiny trickle of black fluid was oozing out, and he knew without doubt that this was daemon blood.

It wasn't just that the daemon couldn't physically stand his continuing song - phoenix song could make a human flee in fear, and the onslaught was far more effective on a daemon.

Her concentration was breaking on the threads she was holding, half-petrified with horror; and finally her remaining courage was drained away. She had held her ground as long as she could, and now, with oily blood trickling slickly down from ears, nose, eyes and mouth, she snapped free from her frozen state and gave one final wail of anguish before turning tail and fleeing to - _where_? - but she was gone, and it was all that mattered.

The instant that the daemon had abruptly vanished out of the strange surroundings Harry had found himself in, the threads broke, evaporating like water in brilliant sunlight speeded up a thousand-fold. The lingering, pervading sense of the 'cloth' vanished too, without its link to the daemon, blinked out with an instant.

Perhaps twenty seconds had passed since the daemon had succeeded in bringing darkness to the Earth; and now, at the end of those twenty seconds, it had fled, defeated if not dead; most of its power gone, weak and injured.

Harry thankfully lapsed into silence and _flicked_ as he had done once before, back into the real world, and back home.

--------------------------

He reverted back into Human form the same moment he returned, throat healed.

It was a moment later that he realised he was facing Voldemort and a small army of thirty Death Eaters.

He frowned. "Okay, what idiot invited the Dark Lord?"

Voldemort gave an easy smile, and Harry was sure he heard a few sniggers from the assembled Death Munchers. "Potter," Voldemort yawned, waving a hand lazily. "Still defiant, I see. I wouldn't expect otherwise, of course, but it's good to see my expectations haven't been let down."

"Delighted to be of assistance," Harry said snarkily. "Are we done here?"

The Dark Lord gave yet another smile, this time indolent and easy-going, which looked quite wrong on his snakelike visage. "Not quite, Potter. There's still the small matter of killing you, which I assure you won't take up too much of our time."

Harry raised an eyebrow, desperately trying to think of something he could do that didn't involve his completely drained magic. "Says the guy who's already tried - what, five times now, including a couple of hours ago? Yeah, you've been really efficient so far. You'll end up in a management job any day now."

Worryingly, Voldemort didn't seem at all concerned. If anything, he looked positively happy. "Ah, but that's where we have a differing of opinion Potter."

"I thought the differing of opinion was on the whole 'kill everyone I don't like' part," Harry muttered, briefly wondering exactly why he was trying to provoke Voldemort into killing him sooner rather than later.

"You see," Voldemort continued, pretending not to hear, "you always get out of my little death-traps thanks to your mother's love - which is quite used up now - a phoenix - of which, you'll note, there is none - or a wand-trick. And I have been reliably informed that thanks to your new wand, there'll be none of that nonsense again."

He was silent for a moment. "Oh yes," he added thoughtfully; "There's also the fact that we have quite a few hostages behind you. Feel free to look - I'd rather shoot you in the front than stab you in the back, anyway."

Harry swivelled around: and behind him, frozen silently in place, were more than thirty people, most notably Aurors and teachers, staring helplessly at the scene before them; some eyes panicked and scared, others grim and proud. More importantly, Dumbledore was there too, helplessly immobile as the rest of them; and all were bleeding, some profusely.

Harry gritted his teeth and turned slowly back around, where Voldemort was languidly pointing his wand at him. "They'll be dead just after they've seen their precious saviour die," he said conversationally, stirring more grunting sniggers from the Death Eaters; "And by the way - so will these two."

As he finished speaking, Draco Malfoy and his two flunkies, Crabbe and Goyle, exited from behind the thick expanse of trees, smirking pitilessly. At Malfoy's wand-point walked Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley, blank-eyed and vacant.

"They've been under Imperius for the past fortnight, Potter," crowed Malfoy, grey eyes gleaming wickedly. "Such a good friend that you didn't even notice!"

Voldemort's grin widened to show two gleaming white fangs as he watched Harry's horrified face; "Goodbye, Potter. _Avada_-"

And then, there was darkness.

--------------------------

It was the moment Levina had been waiting for; the sheet of daemonic magic had covered the Sun eight minutes ago, judging from what she had seen as she watched Harry's actions in the other Realm - and the light, which took eight minutes to reach the Earth, was suddenly blocked.

She had twenty seconds to take action and release the spells she had prepared, and take action she did.

As panic and confusion swept through the Death Eaters, yelling in bewilderment in the sudden near-complete absence of light, she muttered the shortened incantation to free the prisoners from their immobile states and leapt down from her branch, disposing of the _Notice-Me-Not_ charms, and drawing her sword.

--------------------------

Harry himself took a second to realise what was happening, before he remembered his junior school science lessons - eight minutes for light to reach the Earth; and that meant he had just twenty seconds to take advantage of the situation.

As the Death Eaters looked up in alarm at the suddenly invisible Sun, whose light was stopped from reaching them, Harry lunged forwards, towards Hermione and Ginny, ramming past them and ramming Malfoy hard to the ground. "RUN!" he screamed, hoping desperately that this would get through their Imperius-controlled minds.

It did, a little. The eyes suddenly seemed less glazed as Malfoy's hold on them was battered - Hermione seemed to break through almost completely, enough to realise her situation, and for instinct to kick in - _survive. Run_. She grabbed Ginny, and that was what made Harry know that there was a little part of her that was wide-awake, and threw both of them to the side of the clearing.

Harry drew his wand as Crabbe and Goyle fumbled for theirs, though he knew that he could do no magic, wandless or otherwise until he'd rested - he had another reason for drawing instead. Instead of an incantation, Harry swiftly measured Crabbe's speed and height and then - thankful his physical training was about to pay off - swung forwards to ram the point of his point straight into Crabbe's right eye.

After the sudden explosion of dripping vitreous and seeping white liquid and blood, Crabbe stared forwards in shock, gently lifted his hand to touch the wand as if to make sure it was really in his eye, and then keeled slowly over backwards. Harry slid the wand out as he did so, and turned slightly. Malfoy still lay on the ground, wide-eyed in disbelief, while Goyle's gaze was focused on Crabbe, un-breathing.

Suddenly aware of his surroundings, and strangely untouched by his murder, Harry realised that behind him were screams and shouts of taunts and spells. Despite Harry being one of the most important there, he stood forgotten by all but the two boys in front of him. He watched disinterestedly as an Auror found herself impaled on several enchanted knives, courtesy of a miss by one of her friends, and then tilted his head back to the pair of boys, who were still struck dumb.

"Do you think this is really cool, really clever?" Harry asked quietly. "Is this mature, heroic, Wizardly. Does this make people honourable? Are any of them doing what's right?"

Neither of them seemed to have even heard him, so Harry stepped forwards and ground his heel into Malfoy's hand, twisting it around until he heard two of the fingers snap. That got a reaction, which was Malfoy howling as he finally dug out his wand and flung it, unsteadily, in Harry's direction.

Harry gave a small, delighted, laugh, stepping off his classmate's hand, taking the wand from his grasp, and snapping it over his knee. "That may have been an expensive wand," he informed the boy solemnly, "but you should make sure your wand isn't too much like you. Elegant, made for looks, but nothing really sturdy, solid; far too easy to break."

He looked up to see that Goyle had already fled, in the wrong direction - deeper into the Forest, where he would probably have a meeting with Aragog, or some other hungry plant or animal.

Harry gave his rival a hard kick in the head to keep him down, and pocketed the halves of the boy's wand, before turning around again and wandering a bit closer to the fight. It was practically over; the light side winning, as it usually did; he stepped in an increasing puddle of Professor Figg's blood, and scraped it off into the churned mud, distastefully.

Ajax fluttered over and perched gently on his shoulder. "Clear shot," the bird noted interestedly. Harry looked in the same direction and saw that it was true - Voldemort, busily shooting curse and counter-curse after another at Dumbledore was indeed paying no attention to Harry's direction.

"Haven't got any magic," Harry pointed out. The Magpie gave a little shrug-like bob of his head.

"I'm storing some, just in case you ever needed some in an emergency," he said cheerfully. "What's a Familiar for, if not acting as a portable battery, eh?"

"Batteries _are_ portable," Harry muttered.

Ajax gave another bob. "Not car batteries. Anyway, I've got enough for a couple of _Avada_ _Kedavra_s before I'm all out. Want to take a shot?"

Harry thought about it for a second. "Go on then," he decided, still unnoticed to the rest of the slowing fighters. "Give it to me. I'll only need the one Avada Kedavra, though."

Feeling the magic flowing into him once more; not through the thinned and worn-out conduits, but straight through the strong soul-link, Harry raised his wand and took aim. On the way out though, the words turned out to be wrong. Instead of the sharp syllables of _Avada Kedavra_ came the exotic smoothness of _Senta turru_.

As he had once cast the spell in the hopes of harming the daemon, now the shards of jagged, aragonite-sparkling ice howled through the air with deadly accuracy, ten of them thrusting their way into the Dark Lord's unguarded back.

The fight now stopped completely, within an instant, as people became automatically aware of what had happened.

The two Death Eaters who remained alive and conscious froze, and then Apparated away, abandoning their Lord.

Dumbledore stared down to where Harry was, disbelieving.

Harry stepped slowly and quietly forwards, on a funeral march up to where the King of Serpents lay. Then he crouched down, the silence only broken by the muted moans of the wounded and the innocent trills of nesting birds.

He suddenly realised that the Sun was casting its light down once more.

Taking one shoulder, Harry pushed Voldemort's body over, and his heart leaped as the crimson eyes gazed up at him, still watching. "Good shot, Harry," the man rasped.

Harry shrugged. "It was meant to be Avada Kedavra. I don't know why I cast this one."

The dying man chuckled a labouring breath. "No matter. Still a good shot." He stopped the wry smile. "There's something I have to tell you."

"If you say 'I am your father, Luke', I'll be happy to suffocate you," Harry said. The wry grin returned.

"Not quite. This is all a test."

Harry frowned, a little confused. "I know," he said, quiet as if he were talking to a corpse already. "It said in this prophecy... if I defeat you, the test is passed. You're just the warm-up act for the real 'baddies'."

Voldemort breathed out a rasp, shaking his head a fraction of an inch. "No. You don't understand. I'm not just a Dark Lord. I was specially chosen to be your test. I was trained in the Dark Arts. Hell, I volunteered for the task."

Harry stared. Why was Voldemort talking so differently, and what did he mean? The man understood his silence as puzzlement. "All those people I killed... who were killed on my orders... it was all a plan. To get you angry, to find the Phoenix."

Harry started as Voldemort revealed his knowledge of the Phoenix - but now it was starting to fall into place.

"I was manipulated?" he whispered. "The Resistance - they set you up as Voldemort, just to be my test?"

A nod. "Tom Marvello Riddle is my name, just as you thought; kept young through one of the Philosopher's Stones, and all 'my' plans, from creating the Death Eaters, to the Tri-Wizard Tournament and beyond; all planned by the Resistance."

"But - I killed you! You _fled your body!_" Harry gasped softly, feeling every tense muscle, every beat of his heart and pulse and the very blood rushing through his head.

The man-who-was-not-Voldemort shook his head a fraction again. "Just a ruse - first thought up by Dumbledore, that one in particular. All the while I was said to be in hiding, I was once again working in Resistance HQ. Don't get me wrong; all those people I killed - they're dead. They were tortured. They were terrified. It was a small price to pay."

"Dumbledore know, then." Harry mentioned quietly, recalling how Dumbledore had acted when he described Voldemort to Harry as 'just a powerful Wizard gone bad'. He had been lying, Harry knew now, and it was he who had volunteered the suggestion of murdering Harry's parents.

"Why does your body look like this, then?" Harry asked out of the blue, desperate for a way to find out this was all just a final ruse of the Dark Lord's devising.

The man chuckled again. "Just an illusion, sustained by a talisman around my neck. You can take it off, if you want to see how I really appear."

Harry reached for his enemy's robe collar, and plucked out the fine gold chain, dragging out what appeared to be a simple gold hoop attached to it. He carefully removed it, and watched as the serpentine visage changed into a man; black-hair, neatly-styled. Slightly older than the Ton Riddle who had appeared from the Diary, yet obviously the same man though kept young and alive with the Elixir of Life. Same eyes, same hair, same face.

He was the same man who had visited Hogwarts with the white-haired woman, dressed in Muggle clothes to meet with Dumbledore, and Dumbledore had acted subservient, deferential to this man who had killed hundreds directly and indirectly.

Harry was silent for a moment. "So you work for the Resistance," he finally said, unsure if it was a question or a statement.

The man smiled, pale with blood loss, the grass around him slick and brilliant, glorious red. "I go by a different name in the HQ," he gasped out. "Commander Tom Fallow, at your service. Subject FB/P/26H has completed his function," he said, now unseeing as his eyes became unfocused. "Project a complete success. Mission Accomplished."

And with that, Tom Fallow-Riddle was gone, and Harry Potter rose victorious, in act if not in thought. Ignoring the mangled crowd of stupidly gawping Aurors, and the teachers who at least had the decency to look mildly embarrassed for manipulating and deceiving him all his life, Harry passed them by and walked back to school, hoping only for a hot dinner and bed.

Behind him, several Aurors finally noticed Hermione, who sat with her eyes tightly closed, releasing silent screams.


	24. Chapter 24: Stratosphere Epilogue Part 1

Chapter 24: Stratosphere Epilogue (Part I) 

"Great liars are also great magicians." - Adolph Hitler 

--------------------------

Harry had had his hot dinner, as he had wanted, straight from the kitchens. It was hardly healthy, but it was filling and he didn't care - Levina, who he passed as he had entered the school, had nodded casually to him and was busily pretending to have been in the building for the entire morning.

After that, he had headed straight to the dormitory, dressed methodically for bed, despite it being past ten o'clock in the morning, dragged himself under the covers, and slept for the next nine hours straight.

--------------------------

He woke at 7:16, and the Sun was (thankfully) descending proudly and defiantly into the horizon, announcing its presence by making Harry's eyes ache with alarming intensity. He sluggishly pulled himself up and tested the rest of himself; no injuries, miraculously (and he was sure the phoenix form had something to do with this), but his muscles were sore and throbbing painfully, even after his rest. His stomach was also unhappy with its day so far.

Sliding out from the covers and getting dressed into his normal school robes, Harry took note of the distinctive lack of other students, despite the relatively late time. The teachers had probably ordered them not to disturb him. If they thought it would make up for even a fraction of the last decades that 'Voldemort' had terrorised the Wizarding world, they were sorely mistaken. Talking of Voldemort, Harry realised, the man's talisman - the hoop and chain - was on his bedside cabinet. He left it there.

Harry also spotted another peculiarity: as he fiddled with his pendant, he noticed that yet another rune - the final one, if Levina was correct in its translation - had appeared, though precisely when it had done so was a mystery. He tucked it back under his robes, and pushed the door open.

The stairway was empty.

The Gryffindor Common Room was empty.

Outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, McGonagall stood, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Good evening," said Harry, flicking a bit of thread from his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be at supper right now?"

Obviously not expecting this rather unusual reaction, McGonagall gave a start and blinked furiously before finding her voice. "The headmaster," she coughed, raising a fist to cover her mouth in a discomfited manner, "wishes to dine with you, in his study. It _is_ a request," she added hastily. "The other students may act a little... strangely, and Professor Dumbledore thought you may wish to hear the actions taken after the- today's events."

He could have made a snide comment about the real reason Dumbledore obviously wanted to see him - to apologise, to explain his actions - but Harry decided against it. Instead, he calmly started off the Headmaster's Office, ignoring the hesitant steps of McGonagall, who seemed unsure whether to follow him, lead him, or flee before he turned into a vengeful, homicidal maniac.

Well, he'd already killed two people that day. Why not a third?

He didn't pass anyone in the corridors, which was definitely strange - even _if _most people were at supper, there were usually a few who skipped it to finish off homework or to meet friends. Of course though, the teachers had cleared the corridors. They would, wouldn't they - though Harry wondered why the students might react to him 'strangely'.

It probably came back to the killing thing again.

McGonagall had disappeared several corridors back, so Harry was quite happy to perform a little wandless magic to blast the Gargoyles aside and force his way through the 'wall' and up the staircase, quite serenely and unhurriedly.

He knocked on the door.

It opened immediately and smoothly into the Headmaster's Office, looking as normal and ordinary as if it were any other day. The man himself sat behind his desk, eyes having notably lost their usual twinkle. Harry entered the room, strolled past the whirring contraptions and a preening Fawkes, and came to a stop in front of Dumbledore's desk, where he gave him a withering look.

"Was there some reason you asked to see me?" he enquired with an air of long-suffering patience. Dumbledore flinched slightly, and Harry perceived just how pale and tired he seemed. He had always imagined, that if this day should come - Voldemort defeated, and the losses on their own side negligible - Dumbledore would be... well, as always, but even more energetic, with boundless liveliness, enthusiasm...

But of course, Voldemort, it now transpired, was not a ruthless Dark Lord at all; just a man, an honourable, military man doing an essential and reprehensible job day in, day out, with nothing to show for it - knowing it lead up to an ignoble and probably brutal end. And he had.

Dumbledore clasped his hands together, not seeming to realise how tightly and whitely his knuckles showed when he did so. "I thought you may wish to know the..." he paused to choose his next words carefully. "... after-effects of Voldemort's end."

Harry snorted. "Don't you mean Tom Riddle? Or Tom Fallow?"

Another flinch. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"What for? Lying to me? Or creating the epitome of a Wizarding monster and killing hundreds of people?" He shrugged. "Doesn't matter anyway. I'm not angry. Just... disappointed. Irritated, yeah, but I think I'm just too fed up to be feeling any real anger. That doesn't mean I'll trust you anymore, though," he added, to make himself clear.

Dumbledore sighed, lowering his head. "I know," he said ruefully, sounding truly regretful. Harry knew better than to fall for it, just in case it was yet another manipulation. "I admit, I deserve it. I did some terrible things, just by thinking the idea - let alone suggesting it to my superiors."

Harry waved him off, before he could go into any more meaningless apologies. "I don't care about that now. What I want to know is what happened after I left."

There was a pregnant pause, before Dumbledore accepted this lack of interest. "Very well then," he coughed, sitting up a little straighter as he went into 'Headmaster and informer' mode. "After the magpie appeared again to warn us of your... plight... I arranged reinforcements to launch a rescue on Miss Nikastal's sordid little operation." Harry raised an eyebrow at this. He actually had the nerve to call someone else's plan a 'sordid little operation'?

"We arrived too late; a woman was seen running towards the girl with a sword, though whether this was to strike you or your captor, we don't know. We haven't yet managed to find her," Dumbledore continued, looking at Harry, as if asking for a hint as to whether Harry knew who she was or not. He kept his face blank.

"We were, as I said, too late - the woman disappeared moments after our first group saw her, and your captor had - as far as witness' stories go - killed you. I can see now of course, that this not the case." He paused to give a polite cough. "After your... transformation... and subsequent disappearance -" ('_Which you're not going to rest until you discover the meaning of,_' Harry silently sniped as he listened, bored.) "we closed off the area and started investigating, in hopes of finding your location.

"Miss Leone Nikastal was, as you may not know, apprehended by Aurors, though we did not recover the Myrrh Cage or the daemon. The Resistance and Aurors are searching for them as I speak."

Harry watched him disinterestedly as he continued. "Voldemort -" But after that one word, Harry broke his silence.

"Get on with that," he snapped. I know what happened next, I don't need a bloody action-by-action replay! What were the _results_?"

Dumbledore flinched in surprise, before his eyes darted to a sheet of paper before him. "The - results? Yes, the results... twelve Death Eaters were killed or captured - four Aurors are dead -" He frowned. "Professor Figg died early on in the battle. Apparently her heart..." he trailed off. Harry guessed he didn't want to know what the spell had done to it. Whatever it was, it had left a lot of her blood still stained on the soles of his shoes.

"I'm afraid," the headmaster added quietly, "we also lost Ginny Weasley."

Harry froze.

"She was hit by a stray Killing Curse. We aren't sure exactly who shot it, or when. I'm afraid she's dead."

A pair of late-leaving sparrows chirped happily to each other outside.

"I'm sorry." Another silence. "I believe Miss Granger was quite distraught, having been attempting to shield Miss Weasley. She's been taken to St Mungos psychiatric unit, just to have a check-up. Possibly to arrange counselling."

Harry snorted in disbelief. "Counselling? Hermione's been through worse. What about Trelawney's body? Or being Petrified?"

"Those - even with the brutality with which Professor Trelawney was murdered - do not quite measure up to find yourself trying to protect the lifeless body of your former friend." Dumbledore rationalised softly. "I'm sure, however, that no counselling will be needed - Miss Granger is mature beyond her years, and very strong-willed."

'_"Beyond her years" is still a child,_' Harry reflected, '_and strong will doesn't stop the nightmares..._'

"The Weasleys have been informed, and the children have been sent to the Burrow for a while. They will return on the first of July." Dumbledore watched Harry closely, not bothering to hind the fact he was doing so. "There are quite a lot of very large holes in our knowledge of events," he suggested slowly. "Who the woman with the sword - if there was one - was; what happened after your 'death'; where you disappeared to when you took on your phoenix Animagus form; why the Sun was blotted out for several seconds..." He trailed off.

Harry was in mood to answer; and if he had been, he wouldn't have told this manipulative old schemer anything. "What happened to the wannabe-Death Eaters?" he said, though it sounded more like a demand than a question.

Dumbledore knew what he was talking about, though he obviously didn't want to answer this question any more than Harry wanted to answer his. "Gregory Goyle has unfortunately, not been found yet. We believe he fled deeper into the Forest, and have a small group out searching for him. Draco Malfoy is in St Mungos Criminal Ward, where he has been charged with several crimes." He saw Harry's questioning, yet stony, look and elaborated.

"Several charges of conspiracy to murder, attempted murder, kidnap, aiding and abetting, use of several Unforgivable Curses - and of course, being a member of Voldemort's followers. No doubt more charges will spring to light when we investigate his recent dealings further."

Harry nodded, not really caring. At the very least, Malfoy would be spending the rest of his life in Azkaban.

"I'm afraid one of our spies, Lucius Malfoy, is dead as well as Crabbe Senior - Goyle Senior is also in St Mungos Criminal Ward - and as for Vincent Crabbe -" He paused. "Crabbe Junior is dead. There will be no charges."

"Not even over Tom's murder?" Harry sniped sarcastically. Dumbledore at least had the conscience to give the slightest hint of pain in his eyes.

"Harry, it was needed. We had to have a test -"

Harry snapped his fingers. "Of course! A test! Tell me, was the prophecy real, or did you just make that up as you went along?"

"It _was_ real, Harry," Dumbledore assured him, "That's why we knew we needed a test. Harry, none of us wanted to do this-"

"What? Ruin who-knows-how-many people's lives? Kill people, break their families apart, torture them, trick them - and for what?" Harry snapped out, leaping to his feet and now ramming his palms onto the desk, leaning over it and scowling furiously at this _disgusting_ man. "For crying out loud, you made rules with the Five, didn't you? Who to hurt and who not to hurt? So don't you have any rules _within_ your organisation? Is everyone fair game as long as you win in the end?"

He turned away as he saw Dumbledore's mouth start to open. He didn't want to hear the answer, whatever it may be.

"I don't care. Honestly, I don't. I don't know why, but the only thing I'm really angry about is that I'm _not_ angry. I can't explain it. I can't _understand_ it. Whatever I say can't change anything. People are dead. That's done with. All I can hope now is that no-one else will have to do die in such a stupid, meaningless fashion."

He left. He didn't want to hear Dumbledore's promise that it would never happen again. He didn't.

--------------------------

The other students and most of the staff were apparently having a massive 'Voldemort's dead' party in the Great Hall, which had been specially silenced for the occasion. Harry had the sneaking suspicion the entire celebration had been a ruse to make sure that no-one would get in his way.

Hagrid was nowhere to be found, and neither was Levina. He spotted Ajax, though the bird fled as soon as he was seen, which gave him the feeling that even his friends were avoiding him; possibly out of fear, or embarrassment, or the idea that he wanted to be alone. He didn't know whether to be thankful or annoyed.

Of course, Hermione wasn't here - she was still at St Mungos. The Weasleys were all at the Burrow (all except for Ginny, of course...) and - and who else was there?

Remus Lupin, perhaps, and Sirius. They weren't there, of course, but Hedwig was, all ready and waiting to carry some letters. He spent some time quietly in the Owlery, writing lengthy letters to the pair. Just a basic idea of what had happened - not even that really, as he had left out much of the story that he didn't want anyone to know - and mostly angry, tired announcements of his befuddled emotions.

When he was done with that, he slowly retired to the boy's dormitory, where on the laptop he talked to the only other available friend of the moment - Rhiannon, who he found himself commiserating with. She couldn't follow much of the story - she admitted that not knowing the setting or the people involved, she was not the best one to talk with - but she was sympathetic and interested. He told her the basics as well, all the things that Dumbledore now knew, but also of his transformation in to the Phoenix and the fight with the daemon.

He neglected to tell her that he had killed Crabbe, though, or that Dumbledore and Voldemort had been duping him from the beginning.

It was hard to believe that yesterday he had been celebrating the end of his final exam.

--------------------------

Thetford Forest. Entirely devoid of Unicorns.

--------------------------

When Harry awoke in the morning, feeling strangely hollow and emotionless, the first thing he noticed was that most of the other beds in the dormitory had been filled. It seemed the party had gone on late into the night, and he was thankful that none of them had disturbed him.

He checked the watch that Fred and George had given him. How childish it seemed now, scarlet and gold as though he could claim proudly and naively to be a Gryffindor, as if that were all that mattered. And the white buttons - so light, so bright, so innocent! So pure, and uncorrupted and decidedly non-desolate!

It was nearly three AM, he noted absently.

Harry slipped out of bed, pulled some robes on (he noticed the arrow-pendant Ron had found slip out of one of the pockets - had he forgot to turn it in? Well, it hardly mattered now; he put it in a drawer) and crept as quietly as possible out the door and down the stairs.

What was he meant to do? Waiting for information on anything was decidedly long and boring. It would be a long time before the post arrived, with the Daily Prophet announcing news of the Malfoys' arrest, or the fall of Voldemort - or the replies of Sirius and Remus - or perhaps a quick letter from Hermione or the Weasleys?

He made his way to the Room of Requirement, not really caring if he was spotted by Peeves or Mrs Norris.

Levina was inside.

She wasn't waiting for him (or she didn't seem to be, at least), but she looked up from sharpening an axe blade when he entered, and nodded. "Hail the conquering hero," she intoned. Harry knew her moods well enough by now to know she wasn't seriously suggesting he was a hero - but it wasn't an insult either. It was more of a sympathetic statement (or as close as she could get, anyway) acknowledging how others were going to be reacting to him.

"They can try playing the hero, next time," Harry muttered, loud enough for her to hear. She shrugged.

"There'll be a next time, don't you doubt it. And chances are, it'll be you again." She looked at him again, though he eyes held no real interest. "I didn't know it was all a plan of the Resistance. I hope you know that."

It was Harry's turn to shrug now. He sat down on one of the low benches, scuffing his feet on the wooden floor. It felt smooth, yet with a solid, comforting grip, like back when Aunt Petunia polished the kitchen floor; before she'd put the tiles put down. No - before Harry had put the tiles down, and grouted them as well.

"I think the last part has appeared," Harry said, changing the subject as he lifted up his pendant. Levina placed the axe back on its stand and walked over to take a closer look.

She stood up straight after fingering it for a few seconds. "I was right. Verae Tupris am s'Manso Turalla. Blessed Majesty of the Great Kingdom."

Harry slipped it back so it was hidden under his robes. "Do you know what happened?"

Levina nodded, understanding the question. "There are many Realms, some overlapping entirely, some completely separate from each other, some joining other Realms in only a few places. The Realm we're in at the moment is just one of an undreamed-of number."

Harry nodded. "And the one I was in?"

"The Realm of magic - or mana, to be precise. Mana is raw magic, able to be formed into almost any sort; charms or healing spells or illusions; imagine it as the oil, and the magic as the fuel made from it. There are few types of magic that can't be made from mana; daemonic magic, for a start."

"And all magic we make starts off from there?" Harry frowned, remembering the conduits that had broken through from the mana Realm to this one, channelling the magic into each Wizard's body, into each magical object...

Levina cocked her head. "Not all. A lot of it, though. As far as we know, there's an infinite amount of mana there - or as near enough as makes no difference. Perhaps there's a certain amount there, or maybe it's produced there. I don't know."

Harry snorted amusedly. "One of the few things you're willing to admit to not knowing about," he smiled a little. "So, go on then - why did the daemon go there? And how was I able to follow, anyway?"

"The daemon went there because it would be closer to the mana that way. Much easier for it to use the magic it had stolen from you to corrupt all that fresh mana and make a larger spell; and of course, less chance of it being attacked there. It wasn't expecting anyone to follow it.

"You could though, because you turned into a phoenix. How do you think they vanish and appear at will? Some beasts have the ability to Switch between Realms. The phoenix can Switch between several, I believe - though I've never asked one, so I don't know for certain." She grinned a little. "Ajax can Switch into whatever Realm you're in; the link between you is a Soul bond; it easily defies the barriers between the Realms. I'm afraid I was no help in your little fight; I used a little magic to see as Ajax could, into the Realm you were in, to watch your fight; but usually I have no power over Realms. I can't normally see or Switch into them."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. "Outside the mana Realm, I could still see the magic around everything. That's how I knew where the daemon broke through. Is that what a phoenix sees?"

"How should I know?" Levina scoffed, turning away and back to the axe. "I'm not a bloody phoenix."

Harry waited a few seconds as he thought. "Is there anything you can tell me now? About the dragon, or any other of your lovely little mysteries? Wait - I have another one!" He sat up, leaned forwards. Levina stooped and half-turned to look at him, rather bored. "The daemon. Was it really called Syneeta?"

There was silence.

Levina watched him interestedly.

"I told you she wasn't an ordinary daemon after you first attacked her," she said finally. "She's much stronger than a normal daemon."

Harry felt his mouth drop, and for the second time in two days he leapt to his feet. "Then there's two damn things I want to know!" he barked out, "First of all, that daemon _escaped_! Where's it gone? And secondly, _Syneeta is a mythological figure_!"

"The second part is a statement, not a question," Levina purred as she kept her eyes fixed on the axe she was again sharpening. "I have no idea where the daemon's gone, but without its mistress, it will undoubtedly have no idea where to go, and will probably be spotted and captured quite soon. I have the Myrrh Cage in safe-keeping, just in case - and I made sure that no-one recognised me down at the Forest.

"And yes, Syneeta is regarded as a mythological figure. But if you don't believe in mythology, why do you wear a pendant of a goddess that doesn't exist?"

Harry frowned. "Because... it's history. It was a present. And Muggles wear necklaces of Unicorns and dragons and - and - whatever else, when they don't really believe they exist. So why shouldn't I. Gods and goddesses - they aren't _real_!"

"But you believe in magic," Levina pointed out. "You believe that the right words can kill someone, and that broomsticks can fly, and that a daemon can break through the Realms and blot out the Sun."

Harry stopped.

"I've seen all that," he admitted, "and I know it's true. But... I've never had any proof of gods or goddesses. I don't believe in any kind of... higher being or power."

"What about luck?" queried Levina. "Is that tangible? Can you measure it? Can you do certain things to get a certain amount of luck? Can you cause a chemical reaction to produce it?"

Another gap in the conversation. "Luck? No. But..." And another gap. "Are you trying to say that a religion that now is only a struggling, straggly remnant of what it used to be... is the 'one true religion'?"

Levina snorted. "Don't be stupid."

"But you said -"

"I asked whether you believed in luck. I never suggested there was a 'one true religion'."

Harry sighed. "Right, now I'm really confused. So, the daemon called Syneeta. Wasn't Syneeta meant to be one of the daughters of Y'Laagrondd?"

"Yes."

"And was the daemon Syneeta actually _the_ Syneeta, daughter of Y'Laagrondd?"

"Yes."

"... So it _is_ the real religion!"

Levina waved his delight off, rolling her eyes. "I said that the two Syneetas were one and the same. I never said there was a true religion. Will you please stop putting words in my mouth?"

He groaned. "Fine. I don't understand. Will I ever?"

"If you survive, you'll understand completely in a couple of years," Levina said tartly. "Aren't you breaking curfew?"

It was 4:30. "Not really," Harry shrugged. "We're not meant to be out after 'nine o'clock at night'. Technically it's day now."

"Semantics."

"Truth," Harry argued. "If we weren't meant to be out after nine o'clock at night - well, lessons start in the morning, and that comes after night. Technically we would never be allowed out. I can't help it if it's not specific. Anyway," he said, mocking himself, "who would dare put the precious Boy-Who-Conquered into detention? Apart from Snape, of course."

Levina raised an eyebrow. "I probably would," she said, amused, "but I'll let you off for today, since you have a lot on your mind."

"Charmed," Harry said sourly. He rubbed the back of his head. "Do you know... you know, anything? About Hermione, or the Weasleys, or the Malfoys?"

She finished the axe and replaced it on the stand, which then went on the wall. "I know Miss Granger's coping a lot better than the headmaster seems to think she is. Apart from a bit of shock and some survivors' guilt, she seems all right. She'll get over it with time; she's sensible, and her rational nature will force her to see there was nothing she could do. After that, it'll just be normal bereavement.

"The Weasleys I don't know much about - they were packed off home pretty sharpish. The Malfoys have a very impressive list of crimes between them, and inter-staff rumour has it that Malfoy Senior's likely to get the Kiss; it's not common knowledge that he's dead, yet. Draco Malfoy is a little trickier. Not being eighteen, he's still a juvenile, so the most he can get is a life-sentence in Azkaban."

"And me?"

"You're not being charged with anything," she said, as if it were obvious. "Even if anyone wanted to deny that they were Dark Wizards, and it was probably in self-defence, no-one would dare to arrest the darling of the Light - even if you weren't needed to fight the Five. I don't doubt your attention from the press is going to go up for a little while, though."

"Just what I need," Harry muttered. "If you see a beetle around anywhere, squash it."

Levina frowned at him. "Yeah... whatever. Look, seeing as you're insistent that you're not past curfew, why don't you go to the library or something -"

"In a second," Harry said, rising again. "I was just wondering... what's going to happen over the holidays?"

"Well, first of all, you're going to be continuing your Techno-magic studies," Levina said pointedly, "at a _much_ faster pace. I'm going to be staying out of your way most of the time, but I'll chat to you via the laptop if something comes up. Apart from that, your only job will be to avoid the reporters if you go out."

"I'm going back to the Dursleys'?"

Levina looked at him with a hint of sympathy. "Those wards don't only protect you from Voldemort. The Five are going to be more interested in you than ever, now, and thanks to the descriptions of your change into a phoenix being splashed about, it'll be pretty obvious to them who the Phoenix is - not to mention a good few people happened to bring up the subject of the magpie that led them to you. That should clear up any remaining doubt, even if that _was_ hushed up last time Leone decided a good sacrifice was in order."

She stretched. "Now, run along, if you'd be so kind. I'm quite tired myself, and I'm sure you can find _something_ to do."

Harry gave her a mock-scowl before leaving, wandering quite aimlessly until he discovered he was doing as Levina had suggested - heading in the direction of the library. Madam Pince wasn't there - it was still too early for even the teachers to be up - but he could easily light the candles himself, so there was no worry.

Harry curled up in a corner, with a battered copy of '_The Domestic Application of Enchantments_' and relaxed.

--------------------------

Over the next week and a bit, Harry gradually felt himself becoming more... normal, less emotionless. Hermione returned, and Harry could see that Levina had been right; she had gone beyond her guilt astonishingly quickly, probably thanks to the other shocks and terrors she had faced when ever younger, and was now on to dealing with the bereavement - though that was hardly a piece of cake either. He certainly wasn't going to blame her for her unpredictable mood swings or occasional lapses into silence.

Remus and Sirius both sent a dozen letters of support, and Sirius was furious that they weren't able to come to Hogwarts to see Harry - but thanks to the renewed attention by reporters, even Harry had to admit that Dumbledore's insistence was probably for the best, unless he wanted to have Sirius spotted within seconds.

There wasn't a single mention of Harry's kills in any of the newspapers, except of course for Voldemort - everyone who didn't know the truth assumed that Crabbe had been killed by an Auror, and Harry was happy to leave it at that.DracoMalfoy was fully healed, and the media frenzy surrounding his upcoming trial detracted attention from Harry for a couple of days, untilhis lawyers were finally named. The trial would be during the school holidays.

Syneeta wasn't sighted. Leone wasn't mentioned at all.

Harry didn't really care.

The Weasley children returned to school on the first of July, just as Dumbledore had said. There had been a private funeral on the twenty-seventh of June - just family, though Harry and Hermione also attended. They didn't seem to be angry with either of them for not protecting Ginny; in fact, Mrs Weasley had thanked them fordoing the best they could.

It seemed they were still 'adopted members of the family'. Harry didn't find a lot of comfort in that thought.

Fred and George returned to school subdued. Ron was worse, and Harry couldn't blame him for his mood swings or silent lapses either. He had far more guilt than Hermione though; rather than blaming himself for being there and not doing anything, like Hermione had in the beginning, he blamed himself for not being there in the first place, for not seeing that his little sister was under the Imperius.

Harry wished that he too could blame himself, could feel guilty. He did in a way, but what could he have done? Protected Ginny? Then no-one would have killed Voldemort, and between the two choices, he would still make the same one - even if Voldemort was really just Tom...

They left for home on the fifth of July, a day after the raucous celebrations of Gryffindor winning the House Cup for the fifth year in a row; Ron and Hermione nowhere near recovered emotionally, but still far better than they had been when they came back to school a little while ago. Knowing that Voldemort was dead - even if they didn't know the truth about him - probably helped.

The Weasleys met them at the station, Mrs Weasley hugging him as tightly as ever - her maternal instincts were probably in overdrive, Harry mused. And so, bidding his friends goodbye, Harry stepped past the barrier into the Muggle World, and walked alone once more.


	25. Chapter 25: Heavenhigh Epilogue Part 2

Chapter 25: Heavenhigh Epilogue (Part II) 

"Number 103. I will make it clear that I do know the meaning of the word "mercy"; I simply choose not show them any." - Evil Overlord List 

--------------------------

The great building entitled '_Cêzarra Drakmor Ie_' was not only a bizarre work of art and bewildering to the eye (read: stunningly crazy-looking), but it was also highly practical. It had been nearly three-thousand six-hundred years in the making, from early planning to completion, and even now updates and renovations were a regular task. The times, they were a-changing.

Despite the fact that it was massively huge - with over two-hundred rooms, one could hardly describe it otherwise - only twenty or thirty people lived in it all the time, and very few of them had lived and worked there for more than a decade; the owners of the fortress were quick to tire of those who didn't do their work properly, or were simply too meddlesome or nosy, or tiresome or boring.

There were several advisors, and a small honour guard, and a messenger (who was so reliable there was really little need for another) and the rest were all the minor servants who oversaw the day to day running of the enormous building; directing the House-Elves, or tending the grounds, or taking care of security or the secret matters that House-Elves could hardly be trusted to deal with.

There were six more who did not fall into any of these categories; five of whom whose work involved something very different, that being the pursuit of power. They were the owners of the buildings, the ones who gave the orders to the servants, and they were known to a certain high-ranking few (and to quite a lot of lower-ranking enemies, as well) as The Five, or The Dark.

(_The sixth one was unknown to nearly all in the fortress, excluding The Five and two of the most trusted advisors and servants, respectively. The sixth one could be heard occasionally, light footsteps tap-tapping on the stone floor in some secret chambers beyond the cold walls, and the House-Elves and servants fearfully whispered to each other stories about ghosts and hostages, prisoners and curses, and any number of fanciful stories about the origin of the noises on those dark and eerie nights...)_

Cêzarra Drakmor Ie could not be found by anyone who hadn't been brought there by one of the Five or their small troop of guards, and this protection relied on more than mere Unplottable or Fidelius Charms. There were no windows for a start, except five huge ones like those of a cathedral, one on each wall of the pentagonal tower that loomed over the rest of the stronghold. There were no doors, either; from the outside it appeared as though someone had foolishly thought it would be a brilliant idea to build a huge, rectangular block of a stone, grey building and slap on several grim towers to thrust out of each corner and the tallest one in the middle. More than mortar held the stones together; and the stones themselves were more than what their name implied.

It was a rare occurrence, however, for someone to _be_ looking at the outside of the stronghold. One of the rooms was set aside for Apparition, Seportion, Flooing and other travels in and out of the building, and no-one approached by foot - or if they did, the gargoyles had something to say about it. Or eat, rather.

So all in all, Abyssay wasn't entirely surprised that the spies had never managed to actually get inside the forbidding building - even after a couple had managed to ingratiate themselves with the troops enough that they had managed to be shown the outside of the edifice. And one of those two spies had been found as a Resistance Agent and promptly left to the gargoyles, anyway.

The other one had stupidly tried to investigate further, and had died of exposure, or frostbite, or pneumonia - something to do with the cold, as far as their long-distance diagnostic spells could tell.

No, the only way to get a spy onto the inside - and to have a crack at perhaps assassinating one of the Five - would be to make sure one of the Resistance members was completely trusted enough to get past all the loyalty tests, the careful selections, the screenings, the vetting, and to be accepted as a member of staff - and even then, they'd have to work for several years before they would be trusted enough to stay in the same room as a member of the Five without a guard.

Oh, and if they were even a slight danger anyway, they wouldn't even be considered.

Ah yes - and even forgetting the guards, killing one of the Dark was hardly a two-second job. Especially when one of them was an Auramagi, and would have the spy found within an instant.

Well. That idea was out, then - unless......

And Lord Abyssay, struck with a sudden thought of sheer genius, continued to plot....

--------------------------

Hermione had had nightmares before, and of course she still had them now - well, not any longer, thanks to the Dreamless Sleep Potion prescribed to her, but she knew how her nights would be if she didn't have it, and she took it each evening, regular as clockwork.

It was just, the Medi-Witch had told her kindly, until she could cope a bit better in the daylight hours - give her mind a chance to work things out before subjecting her to problems at night, as well. The longer she had to sort out her feelings, the less bad the nightmares would be when she finally stopped taking the potion.

She wasn't actually too... well, she was certainly bothered, and it was certainly horrible - but she felt confident that this wouldn't last forever, that slowly, gradually, the edges of the memory would be dulled from razor-sharp sharpness to a blunted side that would fade away altogether.

What she was more concerned about, as a matter of fact, was Harry's behaviour.

Ron she could understand. He had lost a sister, he felt he hadn't done anything, that he could have helped but didn't even notice anything wrong - of course he was acting strangely, terribly. And maybe it would take him _years_ to get over it, or maybe he never would, but she was still sure that someday he would be better, at least.

But Harry: Harry, who had been there that day, who had been badly injured (or so the rumours said, for she hadn't asked him), who had slain Voldemort and been threatened by a daemon for the third time - he hadn't really seemed to _care_.

He had obviously felt sympathy for Ron and her, for the people who had died that day, but he _himself_ hadn't really been affected. Was it, she wondered, that he had seen and done so much, that it was all becoming familiar to him? That such 'minor' events weren't all that dramatic to him?

He was hardly a normal boy after all, for all the times he had complained about his fame. After all, how could he not be? A single year after his birth he had been set aside from the rest of humanity, it appeared. And it may not have gone to his head, but that on its own could have serious repercussions for him psychologically - how would it affect how he saw people, the world? And then all these other events on top of it, especially in his young, impressionable years, hardening him, making him apathetic, unaffected by the horrors he had seen and was bound to see in the future...

Yes, Hermione decided. There was definitely something wrong with Harry, whether he realised it or not.

But how was she meant to approach this subject with him? Did he even realise the difference that had come over him, from when he was an innocent, energetic child of eleven to the strangely sinister and subtly hostile boy he was now? Was he completely oblivious to this change, like she and Ron had been?

Would he even care?

--------------------------

Gregory Goyle hadn't been found so far. He never would be; a fleeing, panicked human is excellent prey for an exhausted, slightly wary daemon who needs a fast meal to replenish lost energy.

The Aurors found his wand, and that was pretty much the end of it. 'Fleeing Death Eater gets eaten by carnivorous plant/animal,' they decided. Or possibly he'd simply had an accident and died somewhere, his body hidden by the undergrowth. Whatever the reason for his unknown demise, he couldn't have left the Forest, and he certainly wasn't alive in there. Case closed.

They did find, however, some interesting papers and books. It appeared that Leone Nikastal had set up a kind of hidey-hole near to the great rock she had sacrificed Harry on - well hidden, only stumbled on by chance. The Myrrh Cage had perhaps been hidden there, though they weren't sure of that; but they found some other, more interesting, items.

'_A Manual of Ancient Necromancy_', for one. '_The Power of the Animancer_' another; and several interesting papers on various spells, ingredients and rituals. All were sent to Resistance Headquarters for study, and an investigation launched into how she had managed to get two books - the only copies of each - out of the British Library Esoteric Collection without anyone knowing.

Someone had helped her, that was certain; and even if it wasn't a traitor within the Resistance, or the Five, there was someone out there with a lot of influence, a lot of skill, a lot of ingenuity - and a lot of hostilityto carry out their unknown agenda.

--------------------------

And in Thetford Forest, still no Unicorn stirred. 


	26. Chapter 26: Elemental x Extras

Chapter 26: Elemental; Extras 

"Hey! Where's my terrible doom? You promised me terrible doom next time we met!" 

--------------------------

This 'chapter' contains all the little extras and scraps of information. It contains:

· _List of different abilities and a brief description of each_

· _List of upcoming sequels_

· _Extract of next sequel_

--------------------------

Powers & Abilities 

**Techno-Magic:** Power over technology; also gives access to magical knowledge.

**Parseltongue:** Can speak to serpents.

**Dractois:** Ability to speak to dragons.

**Seer: **Can See future.

**Multimagi:** Turn into more than one Animagus form (usually just two).

**Telepath:** Can communicate through mind.

**Astral Traveller:** Can travel by astral-body.

**Annumagi:** Takes one Animagus form for each year they've been alive.

**Finder:** Can find any person.

**Telekini:** Can move objects with mind.

**Instamagi: **Can become Animagus without training.

**Necromancer:** Can speak to, bind, and bring back the dead.

**Animancer:** Controls life; excellent healers, and can bring back dead, but not as slaves.

**Elemental:** (Fire, Darkness, Earth, Water, Lightning, Plants, Magic, Music, Weather, Air, Light, Celestial, Void). Can control one of the thirteen elements entirely .

**Dialector:** Can speak any sentient being's language.

**Alni:** Can speak ANY language, sentient or not.

**Movila:** Can go anywhere instantly.

**Chaody:** Can swap bodies with another person; sometimes with animals.

**Chronomancer:** Can stop, slow or even go back a while in time.

**Empath:** Can sense emotions and feelings.

**Auramagi:** Can see auras.

**Possessor:** Can take over bodies for a while, while their own body is in a trance state.

**Pastreader:** Can see the past, or past lives.

**Healer:** Can heal, not with magic, but with mind. Instinctive knowledge of cures & surgery.

**Creamagi:** Can only use their own spells to effect, not normal ones.

**Multielemental:** Can use any Elemental magic.

**Nexomancer: **Kills. Not control the dead, but simply kill, either painlessly or nastily, usually just by wanting it.

**Dream Walker:** Can manipulate, see, and interact in other people's dreams and nightmares.

**Shadowmancer: **Ability to control shadows; not darkness, because there must be a light source and an object to create the shadow.

**Annumancer: **Every year, gets more powerful (magically speaking).

**Switcher:** Can cross over (or 'Switch') at will to the magical layer, or Realm. Some species can do this naturally, because this is their place of origin; ie, phoenixes, Dementors, lethifolds.

-------

There are many more, but these are the only ones that have been mentioned, or you need to know about - for now.

(_Note:_ Techno-Magic _is_ an ability, technically; controlling electrical objects with thoughts, etc.

(_2nd Note:_ Some abilities can be learned, whereas others only exist in those born with them. The ones listed here that can be learned, with hard work and study, are:

>_Telepathy_; (Very easy to learn; only by Wizards and Witches)

>_Finding_; (Reasonably easy to learn; by Wizards, Witches or Muggles)

> _Empathy_; (Quite difficult to learn; much harder for Muggles)

> _Astral Travelling;_ (Quite difficult to learn; much harder for Muggles)

>_Dream Walking_; (Extremely difficult to learn; can only be learned by Wizards and Witches)

>_Shadowmancy_. (Very difficult to learn; only by Wizards and Witches)

>_Auramagy;_ (Extremely difficult to learn; can only be learned by Wizards and Witches)

>_Necromancy;_ (Extremely difficult to learn; can only be learned by Wizards and Witches)

>_Nexomancy;_ (Extremely difficult to learn; can only be learned by Wizards and Witches)

>Also, _Healing, Seeing_ and _Elemental_ abilities can be learned, but usually only at a very weak level. Healing can be learned by anyone, though it's easier for Wizards and Witches; Seeing is easier for Muggles to pick up than Wizards and Witches; Elemental abilities can only be learned by magical people, and is extremely difficult.

(_About Elements:_ Fire, Water, Earth and Air are self-explanatory. They are also the most common of the Elemental abilities.

(Lightning is actually electricity - however, at the time of its discovery, it mostly expressed itself simply through lightning bolts, as there weren't exactly any TV sets to mess around with!

(Plants is, again, self-explanatory. The use of Music allows the user to control people's emotions, thoughts or even actions by the type of music they sing or play.

(Magic allows the manipulation of spells and magical objects naturally, without the use of incantations, wands, etc.

(Light is again obvious; users can brighten areas, reflect light to create illusions, etc, and also suffer no ill effects from bright lights - one could look straight into the Sun and have nothing happen.

(Darkness is the opposite; users can simply darken an already bright place, and can also detect illusions that have been created through the manipulation of light; they also have exceptionally good night-vision.

(Celestial allows the user more control over aspects that were said to be 'holy' by Wizards at the time of its discovery. However, it doesn't actually bestow any obvious effects. Users are generally better at healing (though they do not have the same skills that Healers exhibit), they find learning Dream Walking, Astral Travelling, Empathy and Auramagy easier. However, in return they find it near impossible to learn Nexomancy, Necromancy and Shadowmancy.

(Void is the rarest of Elemental abilities; it gives the user control over... inexistence. The user can simply eliminate anything they don't like - a rock, a house, a person's soul. Nothing remains; just an empty space. Luckily, this ability only crops up once every millennia or so, and even then it's usually very weak. It's usually relegated to myth status, but there are enough documents to show that the ability is real.

(Weather is mostly self-explanatory; it allows the user to summon various weather phenomena, including snow, hail, storms, heavy rain, winds, etc. However, it has to be a proper, extremely obvious weather difference. Whereas an Air Elemental could call up a light breeze, or a Water Elemental summon a short shower, a Weather Elemental would be forced to call up a small hurricane, or tropical storm. This is the second rarest of Elemental abilities.)

--------------------------

Upcoming Sequels 

2) Harry Potter and the Glorious Scythe

3) Harry Potter and the Dragon's Child

Until then, have a sample extract of the upcoming sequel, _Harry Potter and the Glorious Scythe_, for you to enjoy.

Well, you'll enjoy it more than beating your face in with sticks, anyway.

Maybe.

--------------------------

**Coming soon, to a computer near you... **

**- Harry Potter and the Glorious Scythe - **

_Rating:_ PG-13_  
Main Characters:_ Harry_  
Genres:_ Supernatural/Drama_  
Summary:_ Surrounded by danger. Cut off from friends and allies. Guided by an old enemy. Hunted by a supernatural predator. In the Realm of the Dead, no-one lives but Harry Potter... and even he might not last much longer.

Chapter 1 » The Hidden World Of Me 

----------

July the sixth was not a happy day at the Dursley house. The horrible freak nephew had returned to the pleasantness of Privet Drive, and the boy was quickly ushered into the house before any of the neighbours could see that there was another person living there.

The boy's name was Harry Potter, and he was certainly no stranger to being thrust quickly through the front door by his panicked uncle, so he knew the routine. Grab the trunk before anyone can think to lock it in the cupboard, drag it upstairs, dash into the spare bedroom before Dudley can block the way, and lock the door.

Realising he had forgotten something, Harry put his face near the keyhole and yelled out a hello to the family.

He was done.

Harry placed Hedwig's cage on the chest of drawers, and slipped over to the window. It was still quite bright outside, as it was early evening; he unlocked the window and opened it a little, enough to allow a bizarrely coloured bird to sidle in.

"You're not going to be able to stay here," Harry whispered to it, hoping none of the Dursleys were hovering outside the door. "They think Hedwig's bad enough, and at least she looks normal and stays in a cage most of the holidays. Have you got anywhere else you can go for a while?"

Ajax ruffled his feathers and strutted across the windowsill. "Oh? Where am I meant to stay? A bloody bird-home? Nah, I'll live outside. Best hang around anyway, in case you get yourself into any more trouble."

Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed. "What trouble can I get into here? Except for if I refuse to paint the fence," he added, grumbling.

The bird fixed a beady eye on him. "I'd say you're in more trouble than before. You've got a whole host of loonies after you now - a few Death Eaters that didn't get caught and don't know their precious Dark Lord wasn't all that dark; the Five would be pretty happy to get their hands on you; we don't have a clue where that damn daemon got to - and knowing your luck, the house'll prob'ly fall down on you as soon as you're alone."

"We can only hope," Harry snapped tiredly, collapsing backwards onto the bed. "Fine, hang around the street. Just don't let yourself be seen, or we'll have the RSPB and every birdwatcher in the country up here."

Ajax looked (if a bird could do so) a little insulted. "I know better than to show my ruddy plumage off everywhere," he croaked snippily. "You just concentrate on worrying about your exam scores, and I'll handle the sneaking around."

The boy groaned. "Exams! I completely forgot about them. Do you know when we'll be getting the marks?"

"I'm not a bloody calendar," Ajax said pointedly. "Using my amazing powers of prophecy - i.e, my common sense - I guess they'd probably come with the letter for next term."

He twisted his head round to pick a loose feather from his wing. "Well, I'd best be off. Have to find a nice, dry place to hide out in, y'know. I'll see you around; you'll probably be shoved outside to do the gardening, won't you?"

Harry fixed him with a glare. "Get out then. I'll probably have to make the dinner in a moment."

"Don't forget to study Techno-Magic," the magpie said amusedly, as it turned and sauntered out the window.

The boy glared harder, and stopped once Ajax was out of sight. "Looks like it's just you and me, Hedwig," he yawned, glancing at the cooped-up bird.

"_Boy_! Get down here and make your cousin his supper!"

He raised an eyebrow at the sympathetic bird. "Then again..." he sighed, shoving himself off the stiff bed and making a half-hearted attempt to smooth his hair down before heading out into the landing.

_… _

_… to be continued … _

_…_


End file.
